


A Very Sweet Heart

by Daenarii



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Obnoxious Roommates, Origin Story, Slow Burn, asexual!Stamets, meet cute, space boos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenarii/pseuds/Daenarii
Summary: Hugh Culber is, and always will be, a doctor. He dedicates himself to a strict code of professionalism around his patients, and won't let anyone compromise that code. When he meets Paul Stamets, however, Hugh finds that sticking to a professional attitude can sometimes be very difficult. Suddenly, no code Hugh has can compare to the longing to reach out to Paul.





	1. Chapter One

When it came to some things, Hugh was told he could be very old-fashioned. He usually liked to argue with that assessment--as someone going into the medical field, he loved seeing strides in technology and new research on various fields in biology. He could concede, though, that some aspects of his personality were a lot more traditional than most Starfleet cadets. He liked to open doors for others (although most doors were automated), he had a taste for music from the later 20th century, and he liked to read printed books in coffee shops.

There was a certain nook he’d found on Alpha Centauri that he particularly liked to frequent. It was hidden away from the main tourist thoroughfares, so it was almost always empty (save for the staff, which mostly consisted of bots anyway). The front of the building was almost entirely gold-tinted glass, which--when the sun was setting _just_ right--cast the interior of the shop in molten gold light. The light reflected off of the marble floors, making Hugh feel as if he was in some sort of religious ideal of the afterlife. Music played softly--different genres, though all calming and not too distracting. It really only felt like a vague sense of music, rather than music itself.

Hugh was sitting at the half-circle counter in the middle of the cafe, his torso leaning against the bar. One of his hands was curled around his still-steaming mug of green tea, while the other was holding his book--a well-worn copy of _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ , very difficult to find--open. Over the sound of the robotic staff quietly whirring, Kasseelian opera played softly. Hugh couldn’t claim to be the biggest fan of opera, but there was something about the Kasseelian brand that just hit his heart. He knew this particular song well--he’d studied with it on repeat for an entire night just before a medical exam a few semesters prior.

Hugh took a sip from his mug, letting the warm, herbal tea settle on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed it. It was a little off; he preferred homemade remedies to synthesized stuff, but on a planet as remote as Alpha Centauri, he’d take what he could get.

As the warm tea settled in the pit of his stomach, Hugh started to relax, his muscles easing one by one. Since coming to Alpha Centauri for his internship about a week prior, he hadn’t had any time to himself, to relax and curl up with a good book (though he couldn’t decide whether or not he liked the one he was reading at that moment; Dorian Grey seemed to be a shallow, lying jerk, and Hugh was probably empathizing far too much with Basil Halward to be healthy).

As the tension left Hugh’s body, so did his awareness. As he lost himself in the words--quite literally, as some of the 19th century jargon went right over his head--he started to hum along to the softly-playing opera. He began as softly as the music, but as the notes started to swell, so did his voice, until he was humming along at a rather moderate volume.

Hugh didn’t think humming was that annoying--particularly if someone was good at it, which he liked to believe he was. But, when someone loudly cleared their throat, Hugh stopped humming, cold embarrassment washing over his body as he looked over to the only other person in the cafe.

The person--a man with red-rimmed eyes that screamed of exhaustion--was leveling a dark glare at Hugh. He was seated at a booth a few feet away from Hugh, a PADD and a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Despite the daggers he was eying Hugh with, Hugh couldn’t help but notice he was...actually kind of attractive. In an unconventional way, of course; his pale skin was almost translucent, and his white-blond hair was mussed up in that _thinking really hard_ way. Hugh might’ve diagnosed him with albinism if his eyes weren’t such a dark shade of--he couldn’t tell from that far away. Brown?

Part of Hugh wanted to introduce himself and move closer to the stranger, but he knew he could do better than that. A wry grin he couldn’t hold back crept across his face as he flicked his gaze back up to his novel. He didn’t start humming again, lulling the stranger into a false sense of security. He didn’t start reading his book again either, too busy giving the stranger quick glances. After a few minutes--near the end of the song--Hugh focused his gaze on his novel again. He took a deep breath before he started to hum along to the closing climax of the song, as loudly as he dared.

It didn’t take long for the stranger to notice. Hugh nearly stopped humming when he heard the man’s PADD drop to the table, but he forced himself to keep going, unable to keep a grin off his face.

“Stifle it, or sit somewhere else!” the stranger called then, voice exasperated. “Some of us are doing important work!”

Hugh glanced at the man again, trying to squash his smile. Well, if that wasn’t an invitation, what else could it have been? Hugh closed his book, careful to mark the page, before he stood up. The man at the booth turned back to his PADD, ignoring Hugh as he approached the booth.

He couldn’t have been ignoring Hugh too hard, though, because he managed to miss his stack of waffles with his fork entirely. He chomped down on the metal tines, a confused look overcoming his face when his mouth wasn’t filled with sugary goodness.

“You missed,” Hugh helpfully informed the stranger, unable to keep a grin from buoying on his face. The man looked up at Hugh, fork still in mouth, with wide, mortified eyes. Not brown eyes, Hugh noted--blue, as dark as the night sky back on Earth. Hugh might’ve been transfixed if he didn’t laugh easily at the man’s expression, sliding into the seat across from him. “This counts as somewhere else, right?”

The man sputtered, and Hugh was worried he was going to choke on his fork until he set it down on the table. He was silent for a moment as he directed a scowl at Hugh. “Actually,” he said, his voice lofty and steady as he tilted his chin up, “as I clearly stated earlier, I have important work to attend to.”

Hugh glanced down at the man’s PADD, curious about what he was so intently focused on. When all he saw was a gallery of images of a fluffy samoyed, a smile grew across his face as he looked back up at the man. “Yes,” he said, laughter at the edge of his voice, “your research must be groundbreaking.”

The stranger seemed to puff up a little at that, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face for a moment. He froze then, though, looking down at his PADD as well. A scarlet hue stretched across his cheeks before he switched the PADD’s display off.

Hugh tried not to laugh, deciding to give the poor man a break. He extended a hand, careful not to knock aside the man’s coffee. “Hugh Culber, it’s nice to meet you.”

The man stared at Hugh’s hand for a moment, a furrow between his brows. Hugh considered telling him that it wasn’t poisonous, but he stayed silent; the man probably hadn’t slept in days, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. His hand suddenly shot forward, though, gripping Hugh’s in a handshake. Hugh was a little concerned at how clammy and shaky it was; just how much coffee had the guy been drinking?

“Cadet Stamets,” the man quickly said, looking almost relieved. Before Hugh could comment on _cadet_ as a first name, the man abruptly added, “Paul, I mean. Stamets. Paul Stamets. Good to meet you, too.” He was still gripping Hugh’s hand, though before Hugh could comment, he let it go, pulling his hand back like a viper. He still had a stark blush on his face.

Part of Hugh wanted to ask what had happened to _stifle it or move somewhere else_ , but he didn’t think that would win him very many points. He instead asked, “Cadet, huh?” He took a sip from his tea. “Is your important work for a due-too-soon research paper, then?” He glanced down at the PADD again, hoping his mug hid the twitch of his grin. “Your work on samoyeds must be riveting.”

Paul’s face screwed up in another scowl. Oops. He tilted his head up a little again as he fired off, “Actually, I’ve been studying _prototaxites stellaviatori_ and its implications upon a multi-dimensional mycelial web that spans across our universe and how that would affect space travel.”

Hugh blinked, a little impressed at how coherently Paul could get that out, considering his obviously sleep-deprived state. Not to mention the implications of the subject itself; Hugh had read something about it a while ago, while doing some research on fungal infections. The matter had been interesting, but unfortunately, not well-researched--or even proven.

“I think I’ve read about that theory before,” Hugh said, leaning forward a little. “Have you proven it?” It’d seemed a little advanced for a simple cadet like him--but Paul seemed to know what he was talking about, so why not?

Paul, however, seemed surprised at the question. His eyes widened, and he was silent for a moment. He pulled himself together quickly, though. “Not exactly, no,” he said, a faint smile curving his mouth. Hugh thought he looked nice with a smile like that. “That’s what I’m looking for,” Paul continued. “There’s strong evidence supporting the existence of the network, visible both in its spores and around us, if you know how to look, but accessing it is a harder task.”

As Paul spoke, his voice--originally a reluctant mumble--picked up speed and enthusiasm, until he was speaking animatedly, his eyes shining. He continued, “Unlike simply warping, we’re not only dealing with space, time and gravity. We need more than simply physics. But most people still consider the sciences completely different fields.

“Physics _and_ biology?” Paul asked, and Hugh quirked a brow at the question as he sipped his tea. “No. On a quantum-level, there’s absolutely no difference. Physics _as_ biology.” He paused, and Hugh nodded to encourage him to keep going; it made sense, of course. And that was the type of revolutionary thinking that’d gotten them to space in the first place.

Paul didn’t continue, though. He blushed, dropping his head and hunching his shoulders as he curled his hands around his cup. “Sorry,” he mumbled, voice back to normal. He didn’t meet Hugh’s eyes as he said, “I have a tendency to get...carried away when talking about my work.” His fingers tightened around his mug a little. “This is a perfectly acceptable time to leave and not look back.”  

Hugh frowned. What? He hadn’t looked disinterested, had he? What Paul was talking about was cool stuff--it could completely revolutionize the way that Starfleet thought about traveling through the cosmos.

“Paul, that’s not fair,” Hugh said. “You haven’t even gone into the details and you’re already kicking me out?”

Paul looked back up at Hugh, his eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“You think I’d be scared away from talking to a handsome stranger simply because of his prickly personality and obsession with space mushrooms?” Hugh asked, the words flowing easily off his tongue. He wasn’t sure how Paul would deal with the flirt--Hugh would’ve guessed not well at all--but he just wanted to...test, he guessed. He wanted to see how Paul would respond.

Paul watched Hugh for a moment, his hands gripping his cup more tightly as something battled in his eyes. Hugh tried to exude sincerity as he met Paul’s gaze. After a few moments, though, Paul’s gaze turned distantly sad. “Yes, I do,” he muttered. Hugh felt a frown tug at his lips, and Paul looked away, taking a sip from his coffee.

“You know,” Hugh said carefully, “it _is_ possible for someone besides yourself to be interested in your research.”

Paul scoffed into his cup with an eyeroll. “Please,” he muttered, looking back at Hugh as he lowered his mug, “you don’t have to bother to pretend.” He had a harsh frown on again. Hugh preferred the smile.

“I’m not pretending,” Hugh defended. He didn’t know what possessed him to continue, but he did. “I’m interested in _you_ , and along with that comes whatever you choose to dedicate your life to.”

Paul stared at Hugh, his eyes wide again, and Hugh tried to force the sincerity he felt into his eyes. He didn’t know why this was so important to him to get across--he guessed it was because he didn’t like to see suffering. And Paul was obviously suffering; with caffeine likely supplanting sleep, and the assumption that everyone would hate him if he discussed his interests...some part of Hugh--probably his too-empathetic nature--was telling him to reach out, to help Paul however he was able.

Paul, however, seemed to have other plans. He all but jumped up, shoving his PADD into his bag as he slid out of the booth. “I have to go,” he said, struggling to fit his bag over his shoulder. “I have a--class, I’m going to miss. Gotta go.” He practically sprinted over to the front doors.

Hugh twisted in the booth to watch Paul, confusion crossing his face. “Starfleet Academy doesn’t even _have_ classes on Alpha Centauri!” he shouted at the swinging door, Paul already outside. Hugh sighed, turning back around to cup his hands around his green tea.

Had he said the wrong thing? He’d been spurned before, of course--but never so abruptly. He’d usually at least get a fake phone number, or a promise to meet up but plans cancelled so repeatedly that he’d just given up. Nobody had ever just...run from him before.

Hugh stared into his swirling tea, thinking hard. Paul had a prickly exterior, sure, but he was brilliant--no doubt about that. And besides that, he was refreshingly blunt. He hadn’t been afraid to tell Hugh to shove off. Based on that, if Hugh had been annoying him, he would’ve just said that again, rather than running away, wouldn’t he have?

With that, Hugh decided he wasn’t quite done with Paul Stamets yet. He wouldn’t work himself to the bone for another chance to speak with Paul, but he didn’t want it to end there, either.

Hugh tipped Paul’s cup a little to look at the contents--black coffee. He probably could’ve guessed that. He stood up, taking his book with him. He stepped up to the counter and ordered one cup of straight coffee, to go. It took the robotic server all of twenty seconds to synthesize the brew and pour it into a paper cup, sliding the lid on precisely. Once it passed the warm cup to Hugh, he set it down on the counter, the contents still too warm to hold comfortably.

Hugh hesitated before he asked for a marker. The server passed one over, and Hugh easily uncapped it. He held the point to the cup, hesitating again--was he sure he wanted to do this? Once he remembered how quickly Paul had shrunk in on himself after assuming Hugh had no interest in his research, though, Hugh quickly scrawled his number across the cup. His handwriting was notoriously bad, so he went as slowly as he dared, to make sure it was actually legible. He paused a beat before he scribbled _call me ;)_ under it. What did he have to lose?

When Hugh stepped out of the coffee shop, too-warm coffee and book in hand, he realized he had no idea where Paul might’ve gone. If he had to make a guess, he’d say back to the Starfleet dorms; as a cadet, Paul likely wasn’t staying anywhere else. The fastest way there from the coffee shop was using the hovertrain. There was a station nearby, though Hugh had no idea when the next train would arrive, or if it already had.

Hugh walked quickly down the road, a sense of purpose filling his steps. He wondered if actual Starfleet members out in the field felt like this whenever on a mission. He didn’t like the nerves clawing at the back of his throat; he found himself jogging after a few moments. When he heard the distant roar of the hovertrain, he started sprinting, somehow keeping the cup of coffee safe from any spills.

Hugh reached the depot, thankfully, before the train. There was only one other person there--and Hugh’s heart jumped a little when he saw the flash of white-gold hair. His heart dipped, though, as the hovertrain rolled into view.

“Paul!” Hugh shouted, unable to hold himself back. “Hey!” The hovertrain came to a stop in front of Paul, though Paul was looking back at Hugh. “Wait a second!”

As Hugh stopped in front of Paul, the train’s doors slid open. Paul looked between Hugh and the doors, bewilderment clear as day on his face. “Wh--?”

“This is for you,” Hugh panted, shoving the pristine cup of coffee out towards Paul. “You know, since you abandoned your drink in your...hasty escape.” He felt a grin quirk his lips as he said, “I figured you’d need a cup of coffee for your, you know, upcoming class.”

Paul took the cup of coffee, though by his expression, Hugh guessed it was more reflex than anything. “I don’t understand,” Paul said, his eyebrows scrunching together.

Hugh had to think quickly. The train wouldn’t be there for long, and he knew Paul was getting on it either way--he could’ve joined Paul, if he wanted. But he hadn’t come to force his company on Paul; he’d let Paul take the next step.

“Well,” Hugh said as he stepped back, “I wouldn’t want to make you late!” When Paul didn’t move, Hugh hinted, “The doors are about to close, so you really should get on.” He gave an encouraging smile, rubbing the back of his head.

Paul glanced between the cup and Hugh once more before he slowly stepped onto the train. “...Thanks?” he said, his deep blue eyes still watching Hugh closely before the doors slid shut and the hovertrain pushed off.

Hugh watched the silvery train pull out of the station, feeling a lot lighter than he had a few minutes prior. It was out of his hands; the ball was in Paul’s court. Although, based on how thin Paul was, Hugh doubted he played basketball very often.

Hugh glanced around the station. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and electric lights filled the depot with a clinical blue glow. Hugh sat down on one of the benches. After he thought about it, he wished he’d gotten on the train with Paul. He wanted to get back to his dorm, and the trains had long intervals between each stop.

Hugh shrugged, pulling his book out and flipping to the last page he’d been on. He quickly lost himself in the pages; there would be plenty of time to worry about Paul later.

✩✭✩

Hugh had assumed that the longer he went without talking to Paul, the quicker he’d forget him. That wasn’t the case, though; in fact, the opposite seemed to be true. As the days flew past, Hugh’s thoughts kept straying to Paul if he didn’t keep them occupied.

For the first few days, Hugh was hopeful. Whenever he was filling out prescriptions for patients at the hospital, or the doctor he was shadowing was trying to give him some advice he’d already learned through practice, he kept thinking about that theory that Paul had brought up, about the mycelial network. It was an amazing idea; Hugh hoped it worked out for Paul.

In an effort to keep Paul out of his head, Hugh threw himself into his work. He took more shifts at the hospital, usually only allowing around eight hours to himself. Alpha Centauri, although relatively remote, was also the only major center of civilization in federation space for light years around; the hospital had a continuous stream of injuries from mining colonies, starships going to previously unexplored worlds and encountering dangerous conditions, survivors from ships working through space in less-than-ideal conditions, et cetera. There was always plenty to do at the hospital.

Hugh would have taken more shifts at the hospital, but they insisted he actually get enough sleep. He _did_ sleep, of course; he knew better than anyone the ills of not getting enough rest, particularly when handling dangerously precise numbers, as with prescriptions. He just tended to sleep late and wake up early; he’d never been good with sleeping in a place he didn’t know very well. He averaged about five hours of sleep every night (or, rather, every early morning).

His roommate--a shorter man named Geraldo with a limitless amount of energy--seemed a little distressed by Hugh’s erratic sleeping schedule. It’d been ten days since Hugh had met Paul when Geraldo decided to intervene.

As Hugh stepped into the small dorm room one morning at around 0600, after just having completed two back-to-back shifts, Geraldo was already seated at the kitchen table, a bowl of cantaloupe in front of him. He watched Hugh with wide, brown eyes.

“Hey, Ger,” Hugh greeted, smiling despite the fatigue weighing at his--well, his everything, really. “Good morning.”

“Hugh, are you _just_ getting back from your shift?” Geraldo asked. “You know you’re a monster, right?”

Hugh shrugged, dropping his bag on the couch, before he dropped himself next to it. He leaned his head back with a sigh, his eyes sliding shut. “I’ve heard that once or twice,” he muttered. “But there’s nothing to wake you up like saving lives.”

“Sure, okay,” Geraldo said as he moved. When Hugh felt the couch dip next to him, he knew Geraldo was sitting there. “I’m just worried, man. You didn’t start taking so many shifts until a few days ago. What’s going on?”

Hugh’s mind immediately brought Paul’s face to mind, but Hugh shoved it away with a sigh as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Nothing,” he said, reaching up to rub an eye. “I just want to make sure I get as much out of this that I can, you know?” He glanced back at Geraldo. “There’s not much practical application back home, especially with lifeforms that aren’t human.”

“Okay, sure,” Geraldo said. “Except that something’s bothering you. I _know_ you, Hugh.”

Hugh felt irritation spike in him, but he took a deep breath to smother it. He was just tired, and a headache started to gnaw at his temple. He didn’t have to take it out on Geraldo. Once he’d calmed himself down, he looked to the side, giving Geraldo a tight smile. “Really, Ger, it’s nothing,” he said. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“So it _is_ something!” Geraldo shouted, leaning forward in excitement. “What’s up, man? Maybe I can help!”

Hugh watched Geraldo for a moment before he let out a big sigh, looking down at his hands. He was too tired at that moment to keep insisting it wasn’t anything, and he didn’t want to return Geraldo’s kindness with rudeness.

“I just met this...person,” Hugh said slowly, carefully. He knew from past experience that Geraldo could be sneaky with his “assistance.” Hugh didn’t think Geraldo poking at Paul would help the situation any, so he decided to keep Paul completely anonymous. “I gave them my number, and I’ve been waiting for them to call, but they haven’t.”

“Hmm,” Geraldo hummed as he popped a cube of cantaloupe into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully before he swallowed and said, “Well, that’s easy. Go back to where you met them, tell them their ass looks nice, and you’ll be set.”

Hugh sputtered out a surprised laugh at Geraldo’s advice. “Not like that, Ger,” he said with a grin. “But thanks.” He didn’t consider Geraldo’s other piece of advice; he hadn’t been back to the cafe since he’d met Paul. He hadn’t had time, with all the shifts at the hospital he’d been picking up.

“ _Oh_ ,” Geraldo said, his eyes going wide as a deer’s. “Hugh has a _crush_? Now I _have_ to know who this mystery person is.”

“Maybe later, Ger,” Hugh said, standing from the couch. “I’m extremely tired.”

“Fine,” Geraldo sighed, lounging back on the couch. “Leave, then. But we’re continuing this later.” He ate another cube of cantaloupe as Hugh stepped to the doorway to his bedroom. Just before Hugh plunged himself into the comforting darkness of his room, Geraldo shouted, “Wait!”

Hugh paused, looking expectantly over his shoulder at Geraldo. “What?”

“You’re coming to the party tonight, right?” Geraldo asked. “To celebrate the end of our time at Alpha Centauri?”

Hugh snorted. “That isn’t for another month, Ger. There’s a party for that every week. I can miss this one.”

“Aw, c’mon, Hugh,” Geraldo pouted. “Tonight’s theme is neon! That was my suggestion! You can’t miss that.”

“I already promised I’d be at the hospital,” Hugh said apologetically. “I can’t just cancel on them last-minute, Ger.”

“Uh, yes the fuck you can,” Geraldo said, then pantomimed holding a phone up to his ear. “‘Hey, Doctor Robutin, I’ve already put in 200-odd hours during my time here, and I’m taking a _break_. Thanks, bye, good luck.’ Hang up.” Geraldo made a show of taking his hand-phone away from his head. “Easy peasy.”

Hugh let out a quiet laugh. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll think about it, but no promises. Can you live with that?”

Geraldo nodded. “I can,” he said. “Now go get some sleep, you madman!”

Hugh shook his head, waving off Geraldo. “Goodnight, Ger.”

“Good morning, Hugh!” Geraldo said with a wave. “Catch a lot of Z’s!”

Hugh smiled a little at that as the door slid shut behind him. He started to pull off his clothes as he stumbled to his bed. Usually he would’ve at least tossed his clothes into the laundry chute, but he just wanted to curl up in his nice, warm bed. When he was only dressed in his underwear, he slid underneath his covers, wasting no time in curling on his side.

It took awhile for Hugh to fall asleep, and as he waited for dreams to claim him, his mind wandered. Unsurprisingly, it drifted to thoughts about Paul. Hugh wanted to know he was alright. He’d seemed ready to unwind entirely at the coffee shop; it would be hard to do worse than that. But how would Hugh be able to find Paul, if he didn’t want to be found?

Wait. Paul was a cadet--he would be invited to the party, too. At that thought, Hugh seriously considered taking Geraldo’s suggestion. Paul didn’t seem like the party sort of person, but there would still be a chance. That was better than nothing, right? Hugh was sure that as soon as he got some sort of closure, at the very least, he would be able to move on from Paul.

Hugh drifted off to sleep trying to figure out how to most courteously and politely cancel his shift at the hospital.

✩✭✩

The sound of the front door slamming shut woke Hugh up--Geraldo leaving, probably. Hugh let out a small sigh as he buried his face into his pillow, grumbling, “Computer, what time is it?”

“It is currently eleven forty-six,” the computer helpfully supplied.

Five hours of sleep, then. Hugh doubted he would fall unconscious again; he still had a lot to do, after all--namely, call the hospital and bail. A cold thread of guilt wormed around in his chest at the thought, but that thread turned into a bowling ball of regret when he considered not being able to see Paul instead.

Hugh kept his face smashed into his pillow for a moment before he sighed, slowly drawing himself up to a seated position. A big yawn rendered him immobile for a second, tears springing to his eyes at the intensity. He wiped the tears away before he slowly stood up. “Computer, lights at fifty percent.”

When the lights turned on, Hugh frowned at his clothes on the floor. He’d been doing that more often lately; he’d have to stop, or else it’d become a habit. He slowly picked up the clothes before dropping them into the laundry chute, idly scratching at his stomach. He didn’t bother to put anything else on before he stepped out of his room; Geraldo was the only other one who would’ve seen him, and he was already gone.

Hugh padded his way to the kitchen, another yawn slipping out of his mouth. It felt earlier than he knew it was; if the architecture didn’t look so different--so sleek and minimalistic--Hugh might’ve thought he was back on Earth, early on a Saturday morning. But if he was back home, he wouldn’t have to synthesize a cup of tea.

Hugh took a sip from the ceramic mug, letting the warm tea spread through his limbs and invigorate him before he stepped over to his PADD, lying innocently on the countertop. When Hugh activated the display, he saw an address scrawled onto the little notes section. _Party starts at 20:00! Be there or be square!_ was directly under it.

Hugh swiped the notes to the side as he dialed up the hospital. As the line rang, he took a deep drink from his tea, staring at nothing in particular. After a few moments, a loud grinding noise came from the PADD. Hugh jumped, sucking some tea down the wrong pipe. He set his cup down firmly on the counter as he coughed loudly, trying to free up his breathing tract again.

“Cadet Culber?” Doctor Robutin’s wizened voice said as the noise died down. “My apologies, my PADD was right next to the hypospray synthesizer. What can I do for you?”

“Doc--” Hugh tried to force out, but he was cut short by another fit of coughing. He took a moment to breathe deeply and clear his throat before he spoke, voice a little raw, “Doctor Robutin. I...have to apologize, but I won’t be able to make it to my shift tonight. Something came up. I can reschedule if you’d like, or--”

“Culber, I was planning on telling you to take more time off anyway,” Doctor Robutin said. “You’ve worked yourself to the bones. Take a break.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Hugh said, relief spreading through his body. He’d expected more of a fight. “I’ll see you for my shift tomorrow, then.”

“Of course,” Doctor Robutin said. “Feel better, Cadet.”

“I will, Doctor,” Hugh responded automatically. The doctor ended the call before Hugh could process the words--feel better? For what? He wasn’t sick.

Hugh blinked, looking down at his cup of tea. Well, his intention hadn’t been to mislead Doctor Robutin, but at least it got him out of the shift. Hugh continued to drink his tea as he flipped through news stories and research articles on his PADD, leaning against the counter. He was half-heartedly reading an article about a new organism recently discovered near the Gartner Quadrant that seemed to play host to some sort of plant that could survive in the vacuum of space. Hugh made a mental note to bring it up to Paul if he was at the party.

Right. The party. When was the last time Hugh had showered? He didn’t want to think about it. He instead resolved to take a shower at that exact moment. He didn’t waste any time before grabbing some towels from the hall closet, something to change into, and stepping into the bathroom.

Despite everything, the showers had _amazing_ water pressure. Hugh guessed that was thanks to Starfleet; it seemed like all the Starfleet facilities were built to maximize efficiency and luxury as much as possible. It almost made Hugh miss home a little less, especially when the shower’s internal thermal sensors adjusted the water’s temperature to be as comfortable as possible. As the tension slid off of Hugh’s skin, he decided he should take advantage of Alpha Centauri’s showers a lot more often.

Hugh stepped out of the shower at 12:45. He took long showers, but he didn’t really mind; Geraldo took even longer ones. After Hugh was dressed, though, he wasn’t sure what he should do while he waited for 20:00 to roll around. He considered reading something, but he had only brought _The Picture of Dorian Grey_ with him, and he’d finished that the night he met Paul (he’d hated the ending; he staunchly believed that Basil had deserved better).

So Hugh did what he did every time he was bored: he started to clean. He vacuumed the floors (even though they didn’t really need it; Geraldo hardly ever dropped food, and Hugh made sure to clean up after himself). He washed and put away the dishes (even though there weren’t that many in the sink; the only things left out on the counter when he finished were Geraldo’s measuring cups, which Hugh could _never_ find a place to put). He made his bed, then Geraldo’s bed (just in case). He wiped down the counters, and most of the surfaces in the bathroom. Hell, he even dusted the shelves (which never had any dust on them to begin with). When all the obvious stuff was out of the way, he busied himself with reorganizing the fridge (which didn’t have that much food in it, anyway; Geraldo and Hugh only cooked for special occasions, and usually ate out or synthesized food otherwise).

By the time Hugh finished with his tornado of cleanliness, it was 16:00. He still had four hours to wait, and he had no idea what to do. Why hadn’t he brought another book with him? He probably could’ve gone for a jog or a walk, or explored the city, but he just wasn’t in the mood. Part of him wanted to take a nap, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

With little else to do, Hugh started playing holo-chess with the computer. The first game lasted about half an hour, and the computer won. The second game lasted a full hour (because Hugh was looking up strategies on his PADD), and the computer won again. Hugh decided then that he’d lost enough to the computer, and escaped to his room to study instead. His Andorian anatomy could’ve done with some refreshing, and reviewing Vulcan physiology couldn’t hurt, either.

By the time Geraldo returned--19:00--Hugh was figuratively elbow-deep in a dissertation about the proper bedside manner for Vulcan patients. He didn’t hear the front door, but he _did_ hear Geraldo shout, “Honey, I’m hooome!”

“Hey, Ger,” Hugh called. He was on his back on his bed, holding his PADD above him. “How was your shift?”

“Oh, great,” Geraldo responded. He appeared in Hugh’s doorway and leaned against it. “I had to help an OBGYN with a pregnant patient for most of the day--the pickiest person alive, let me tell you--but afterwards, I was assigned to food duty.”

“Exciting,” Hugh said. “At least the party’s soon, huh?”

“Are you coming?” Geraldo quickly asked.

Hugh snorted, dropping his PADD to his side and sitting up. “Would I be here if I wasn’t?”

Geraldo’s face lit up with a big grin. “Fuck yeah!” he said. “Aw, man, it’s gonna be a rager now! I can see it!”

“I’m hardly the life of the party, Ger,” Hugh said, though he had a smile on his face. “I’ll just be...sipping a beer in the corner, same as usual.”

Geraldo pointed at Hugh with a pouty frown before he disappeared from the doorway. “We’re getting you shitfaced!” he shouted from elsewhere in the apartment. “You’re the funnest drunk!”

Hugh snorted, standing up. “You’ve seen me drunk _once_ ,” he called after Geraldo. “It’s not gonna happen tonight.” He stepped over to his closet, pursing his lips; he could’ve had something synthesized, but he was sure he had _something_ legitimate to wear. Synthesized fabric was itchy.

“Come ooon!” Geraldo yelled. “How else are you gonna forget that person you’re so sappy over?!”

“He might be there,” Hugh shouted back, distracted as he picked at a bright green sleeve. It took him a moment to realize what he’d done, but before he could backtrack, Geraldo had sprinted to his door, wild-eyed and half-wearing a bright orange shirt, one arm out of a sleeve.

“He?!” Geraldo exclaimed. “So it’s a guy! And he’s in Starfleet!”

“Ger,” Hugh said, leveling a calm--but firm--stare at Geraldo. “You can’t mess with this one, okay?”

“Why nooot?” Geraldo asked, leaning against Hugh’s doorframe with doe eyes. “I won’t be pushy! I just wanna meet the guy, make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“That’s what you’ve said about every person I’ve tried to date before this,” Hugh said. “Let me do this on my own.”

Geraldo pushed off of the doorframe with a dramatic sigh, whirling around in the same motion to walk back down the hall. “Fiiiiine. But at least give me a name!”

Hugh frowned at where Geraldo had been. “You won’t hunt him down?”

“Of course not!”

Hugh continued to frown, considering as he looked back at the small array of shirts he had. “...Paul,” he said. He wished he had reason to say Paul’s name more often; it was simple, but...Hugh liked how it formed in his mouth.

“Paul?” Geraldo yelled from his own room. “Seriously? That’s the lamest name! Give me a last name, too.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal, Ger,” Hugh shouted back. He pulled out a bright-ish orange shirt from his closet. He held it up to his chest, then wrinkled his nose and put it back. Orange wasn’t his color--why did he even have that?

“You won’t even let me meet the guy!” Geraldo called. “Let me live vicariously here, Hugh!”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “Stamets. Happy?”

“No fucking way!” Geraldo shouted, voice a few levels louder. “Paul Stamets? The weird mushroom guy that hates everyone?”

“You know him?” Hugh asked, glancing at his doorway again. He had to make a decision on a shirt--but neon colors were _so bad_. Why had Geraldo chosen this hell for all of them?

“Uh, yeah!” Geraldo yelled. “Paul Stamets, the pickiest guy at the academy.” He lowered his volume as he walked back down the hall to Hugh’s door again, tugging on a hot pink shirt. “Kimtera once walked into his lab on accident and he nearly pushed her on her ass to get her out. True story.”

Hugh shook his head, watching Geraldo closely. “The day _Kimtera_ tells a true story is the day I swap over to the engineering track.”

“Then what about Professor Luciendo?” Geraldo challenged. “I heard that he took a point off of Stamets’s final, and Stamets took his complaint straight to the head of the board. How dramatic is that?”

“And who did you hear that from?” Hugh asked, crossing his arms as he turned to fully face Geraldo.

Geraldo frowned, looking away. “...Porishka,” he muttered guiltily.

“Exactly,” Hugh said with a nod. “You don’t know anything about him, Ger. I’ll concede that he’s a little prickly, but….” He looked away, analyzing the neon purple shirt he’d been eying earlier. “He isn’t _that_ bad.”

Geraldo sighed. “I wish I hadn’t promised to not meddle,” he grumbled as he disappeared from the threshold again. “If you two start dating, though, you better introduce me!”

Hugh snorted, deciding to not tell Geraldo that chances were that Paul wasn’t even interested. If he was, he would’ve called.“I’ll invite you to the wedding, too,” Hugh instead said, pulling out the purple shirt.

As he pulled off his shirt, his eyes landed on his tricoder. It wouldn’t hurt to bring it--back on Earth, academy parties celebrating the end of the term did tend to get very rowdy, and someone almost always ended up with a broken nose. Hugh dismissed the thought with a shake of his head; they were on Alpha Centauri, after all. Most of the students there were there because they were nerds. There would be nothing broken, Hugh concluded as he pulled on the violet shirt.

He tried to not think too hard about potentially impressing Paul as he further prepared for the party.

✩✭✩

Hugh guessed it was because he was more old-fashioned that he wasn’t too into parties. He liked them enough, he guessed; after a short while, though, he usually just wanted to head home. That night’s party felt different, though.

It didn’t feel different because of the ambience, of course. It had the same bone-thumping music that all Academy parties had, the same nausea-inducing strobe light show, the same makeshift “bar” serving alcohol. But Hugh himself felt different; every face he glanced at, he looked at with hope. Every person that approached him made his heart swell with optimism--then quickly deflate, though he forced himself to keep a polite smile on his face at all times.

He knew why he felt like that. He wouldn’t put a name to it, but he knew. Hugh had wanted to abstain from drinking for the night--mostly just to spite Geraldo--but after he’d thought he’d seen white-blond hair gleaming in the flashing blue lights one too many times, he made his way over to the bar to grab a beer. At that point, he figured he deserved it.

Shortly after Hugh grabbed his first beer, Geraldo met back up with him, a flush and a breathless grin on his face. “Hugh!” he said, his voice nearly a hiccup. “H-Hugh!”

“Ger,” Hugh greeted, a smile creeping across his face at Geraldo’s own grin. “Having a good time?” He had to shout over the pulsing music to be heard.

Geraldo nodded vigorously, nearly spilling whatever purple concoction was in his plastic cup. “Yep!” he said. “Have y’met Ulua?!” Before Hugh could answer, Geraldo shook his head. “No! That’s not what I wanted. Have you boogied yet?!”

“‘Boogied’?” Hugh asked, smile widening at the term. There was something he could hold over Geraldo’s head for the next few months.

“You know!” Geraldo said, nudging Hugh’s shoulder a little. “Danced! Gotten down with it! Shredded!”

“I’m at least seventy percent sure that _shredding_ doesn’t relate to dancing,” Hugh said.

“Whateverrrr!” Geraldo drawled. “Answer the question!” He took a drink from his cup.

“No, I haven’t danced yet,” Hugh said. Truthfully, he wasn’t really in the mood; he was content to just watch the party and nurse his beer.

“You’re lame!” Geraldo said, though there was no real malice behind the words.

“And you’re drunk,” Hugh replied. “Make sure you’re drinking water, too.”

“Stop doctoring!” Geraldo said, squinting one eye closed as he stared at Hugh. “Loosen up, Culber!”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t blame me for your massive hangover,” he said. “I warned you.”

“Your hangover won’t be massive enough!” Geraldo accused, then clapped a hand on Hugh’s shoulder and tried to steer him away. “Come on! Ulua can help!”

Hugh let Geraldo lead him, if only to appease him for the moment. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

Geraldo gave Hugh a wink (that was really a blink; he’d never been able to wink properly). “ _Very_ good friend,” he said.

Hugh wrinkled his nose. “Don’t tell me the details, thanks.”

Geraldo’s response was drowned out by a high-pitched, feminine voice saying from halfway across the room, “Paul~!”

Hugh froze, his feet rooted in place as his gaze zeroed in on where the voice had come from--an Andorian woman, her skin all but gleaming under the multicolor strobe lights. She continued, voice rather shrill, “It’s sooo good to see you here!” Hugh leaned around a little, and caught a glimpse of white-gold hair gleaming blue from the lights. Oh, shit. “The last time I saw you at one of my parties, you blacked out so hard your boyfriend had to drag you back home by a foot,” the woman continued.

Wait--what? Boyfriend? Hugh leaned over a little more to watch Paul, but he could only see the back of his head and his gaudy rainbow sweater. The music drowned out his response. Hugh felt boiling mortification flood through his chest.

That...that made sense. That must’ve been why Paul had run away; Hugh had been practically _throwing_ himself at him, and Paul’d had--oh, _shit_. Geraldo was still tugging at Hugh’s arm, trying to get him to follow, but Hugh turned on his heel and walked away from the scene, an embarrassed blush setting his face aflame. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

It was then that Hugh realized Geraldo was still talking. “--to this party just to stand in a corner and drink,” Geraldo was in the middle of saying.

“S-sorry,” Hugh said, abruptly halting. Geraldo collided with his back, and Hugh turned around. “I just--” He stopped, trying to find the right words. His gaze drifted from Geraldo back to where Paul had been. No wonder he hadn’t called.

Geraldo frowned, watching Hugh closely. “Hugh?” he asked. “What’s up, bud?”

Hugh shook his head, looking back at Geraldo. Right. Focus. He could focus. “Nothing,” he said, giving Geraldo a tight smile. “Sorry. I’ll just...grab something stronger when I finish this beer. I don’t want it to go to waste, you know?” He took a swig from his bottle to prove his point.

Geraldo watched Hugh carefully. “If you say so,” he said slowly, then slapped a hand against Hugh’s shoulder. “Like I said: let go, man!”

“Definitely,” Hugh said with a nod. “You’re right. I’ll loosen up.”

“Good!” Geraldo said, then abruptly melded back into the crowd. Hugh watched after him for a moment before he dropped his smile and took several deep gulps from his beer.

Hugh didn’t grab a stronger drink after that; he stuck to his beer. He’d planned on getting some Andorian whiskey or something, but after he saw Paul stumbling around a little, trying to be sneaky, Hugh figured that he should at least keep an eye on the guy. Every time he saw Paul, he was alone, or otherwise with someone shoving another drink in his hand. As the night wore on, Hugh felt more and more concerned; Paul really should’ve had at least someone watching over him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. He nearly approached Paul once or twice, but he figured he’d looked foolish enough in front of Paul already.

After Hugh finished his fourth bottle of beer, he had a pleasant fuzz in his head. His face was warm, and if he didn’t focus, he started to sway unconsciously. He hadn’t seen Paul in a little while--perhaps he’d went home? It was getting late, and the party was starting to wind down. Hugh figured he would leave shortly, too; no doubt Geraldo was planning on spending the night with someone, so there was no real reason for Hugh to stay anymore.

Except for the pressure building on his lower stomach--he could at least relieve that first. He slowly scooted around the edges of the room, keeping a wary eye out for Paul. He’d survived most of the night without an awkward confrontation; he didn’t want to have one while searching for the bathroom right before he was about to leave.

Hugh turned down an empty hall--well, nearly empty. There was a person laying on the floor, passed out. As Hugh approached them, he heard them mumbling to themself quietly--and then he saw the neon rainbow sweater.

Hugh froze, staring at Paul. What the fuck? Why was he lying in the middle of a deserted hallway, alone? Why was he talking to himself? Why was he in Hugh’s path to the bathroom? Someone really had it out for him.

Hugh inhaled deeply, trying to give himself a peptalk. He could do it. He was studying to be a doctor, and Paul was just...a patient that needed his help at the moment. Hugh could easily forget the past ten days he’d been waiting for Paul to call. He just needed to get over his inebriation, and Hugh could help.

“Paul?” Hugh asked as he stepped over to Paul. “Is that you? What are you do--” Hugh stopped as he leaned over Paul to look at his face. Oh, yikes--his nose was crooked, and he had a bloody trail leading out from one nostril. Hugh _knew_ he should’ve brought his tricoder. “Are you okay?”

Paul blinked lazily, taking a moment to register Hugh’s face. A broad, careless grin crossed his face as he raised a hand to pat Hugh’s cheek. “I’m doing great!”

Hugh frowned. “You broke your nose,” he said. “How long have you been here for?” He crouched down, skimming his hands over Paul’s shoulders to carefully push him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and taken home,” Hugh murmured, more for himself than anything else. To distract himself from his proximity to Paul, he asked, “Did you...come here with anyone?” _Yes, Culber, just focus on the boyfriend. Genius._

“Just my roommate,” Paul said, his voice carefree, “and he’s not as pretty as you.” Hugh managed to fight the blush from that one, but then Paul traced his fingers down his chest and said, “Wow, you’re so...muscley.”

Hugh’s cheeks caught on fire. “Alright,” he said quickly, “it’s time for you to go home.” He caught Paul’s grin out of the corner of his eye as he neatly picked Paul up and set him on his feet. Once there, Paul swayed a little, but Hugh gripped his shoulder tightly to keep him afloat (so to speak).

“Go home?” Paul asked, as if he was seriously considering it. He swayed against Hugh and seemed to stay there, leaning into him for balance. “Only if you’ll go with me.”

Paul would be the death of him. Hugh ignored the obvious implication as he nodded. “I’ll make sure you don't fall on your face on the way back, and fix your nose for you.” He slowly let go of Paul’s shoulder; when Paul didn’t fall, Hugh continued, “I almost brought my tricoder with me. But I didn't think anyone would manage to break their nose tonight.” He shook his head before he slid his hand down to Paul’s wrist, gripping it firmly and leading Paul down the hall, towards the front door.

Paul’s almost-boyish laugh drifted to Hugh’s ears. “You’re like my knight in shining armor!” he said. “Or, knight in neon armor.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “I think I’d prefer shining armor.” He glanced around as he weaved through the crowd, making sure to tug Paul close. They were nearly to the front door when Geraldo came across them, face flushed with drunkenness.

“Hugh!” he all but shouted, swaying in place. “Where--where ya goin’, bud?!”

“I’m taking Paul home,” Hugh answered, before he frowned at Geraldo. “Do you need to go home too?”

Geraldo waved his hand. “Naw, man!” he said. “The party’s just startin’!”

Hugh snorted. “I’d disagree with you there.”

“Wait,” Geraldo said. “Paul--Stamets? Seriously?” He leaned around Hugh to look at Paul. “Holy shit! Where--” He looked back up at Hugh, “where’re you takin’ ‘im?”

“His dorm,” Hugh said. “Don’t worry, he won’t steal your bed.”

“You know where he lives?” Geraldo asked, lifting his brows.

Hugh blinked. Oh. That would’ve been important.

Geraldo laughed uproariously, reaching out to pat Hugh’s shoulder. “Feel free to steal my bed, bud!” he said. “I’ve got _plans_ for tonight.”

Hugh wrinkled his nose. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Paul can tell me where he lives. Right, Paul?” He looked back at Paul expectantly.

Paul blinked at Hugh a few times before he nodded rapidly. Hugh frowned unsurely before he slowly returned the nod, and looked back at Geraldo. “Thanks Ger,” he said as he started to tug Paul away again. “I’ll see you later.”

Geraldo waved at them as they made their way past. Hugh ignored the obvious kissy faces Geraldo was making as he faced his goal again: the front door.

Hugh didn’t waste any time in pulling the door open and leading Paul through it. Paul’s foot caught on the lip of the door, though, and he stumbled. Hugh’s hands flew up to catch Paul before he could faceplant and further hurt his nose.

Paul glanced up at Hugh, a grin toying at his mouth. “If you wanted to carry me back home with you, you only had to ask,” he said.

Hugh took a deep breath as he righted Paul, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. He tried to ignore the fire in his cheeks as he said, “Focus, Paul. You didn’t answer me before: where do you live?”

“At my house,” Paul said without missing a beat. “You can come with me!” he said, excitement growing in his voice. “I’ve been growing a great big garden you know. Mother says that she's going to use all of the vegetables while I’m gone, but I don't believe her, because--”

“No,” Hugh said, interrupting Paul, “here. On Alpha Centauri.” He normally wouldn’t have interrupted, but the sooner Hugh could get him to bed, the sooner he could put an end to the strange clinginess Paul was acting with.

Paul stared at Hugh blankly. “At myyyyy...apartment?”

Hugh gave an encouraging nod. “Which is where?” he asked, feeling distinctly like he had to hold Paul’s hand through the conversation.

“On Alpha Centauri,” Paul provided, giving a proud grin.

“Fuck it,” Hugh sighed, looking away for a moment. “I have a tricoder at home anyway, and can fix your nose,” he grumbled before he looked back at Paul. “I’m not leaving you to wander around at night.” Hugh took Paul’s wrist in his hand again before he set off towards his own dorm room.

They walked in silence for about five seconds before Paul said, “I’ve never really noticed before, but don’t you think the moon looks just like a misshapen mushroom?” When Hugh glanced back at him, he was motioning at the ceiling. “Perhaps that’s how it all works together. The moon connects up to the mycelial network, and that’s how people can space travel around.” Paul nodded, starting to look around. “Yes, I should write that down. Where’d my PADD go?”

Hugh’s only response was a soft smile, but that didn’t discourage Paul--thankfully. He kept rambling about the mycelial network, how it could connect to the moon, and other things. Every so often he would quiet down and glance at Hugh, but something in Hugh’s face would encourage him to keep going. Hugh was grateful; he liked hearing Paul ramble, even if most of it was just drunken slurring.

Eventually, Hugh came to a stop in front of his apartment. As he placed a hand on the scanner next to the door, Paul said, “Whoa, are you part of Starfleet too? I didn’t know that.” He tapped at Geraldo’s nameplate. “Who’s this? Next to your name.”

“My roommate,” Hugh said as the door slid open. He ushered Paul inside first, then stepped in himself. “Sit down on the couch,” he said as he brushed past Paul, who was looking around the apartment. “I’ll grab the tricoder.”

As Hugh walked to his room, he was distantly glad he’d gone on a cleaning rampage earlier that day. Paul seemed very easygoing at that moment, but once the alcohol wore off, Hugh was sure he’d have high standards.

Although--he still had to go to the bathroom. Hugh glanced over his shoulder, hesitant about leaving Paul alone for so long, before he altered his course. Paul would be fine for an extra minute; unless he got into the cutlery drawer, there was no way to hurt himself. Probably.

When Hugh returned to the living room, Paul wasn’t on the couch. Hugh felt panic clog his throat for a moment before he saw Paul standing at the closet.

“Ow, fuck,” Paul hissed as Hugh approached the couch. “Oh no, I’m dying,” he whispered.

“What are you doing in my closet?” Hugh asked, lifting a brow.

Paul whirled around to face Hugh. Hugh was afraid he’d topple over for a moment, but he miraculously managed to keep his balance. “What are you doing in _my_ apartment?” Paul countered, crossing his arms. There was new blood smeared across his face.

“No, you’re definitely in my apartment,” Hugh said, amusement bubbling in his chest. He tried to squash it down--professional, dammit. “Your nose is bleeding again. Come back over here and let me fix it.” He gestured Paul over.

Paul hesitated, a frown on his face, before he stepped over. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” Hugh said with a nod. “Now sit down.” He put a hand on Paul’s shoulder to push him down to the couch. When Paul complied, Hugh nodded. “Perfect. Now, don’t move.” He leaned down a little as he held his tricoder in front of Paul’s face, pressing buttons. He was lucky nose injuries seemed to be common among adventurers of the galaxy, or else he would’ve been out of luck at that moment.

“How’d you get one of those?” Paul asked, staring directly at the tricoder. “I thought only Starfleet’s medical track had them.”

Hugh had to resist the urge to snort. “That makes sense,” he muttered, “considering I am part of Starfleet’s medical track.”

“Really?” Paul asked, genuine shock in his voice. “Wow! I had no idea!” He looked past the tricoder and at Hugh, his face showing openmouthed amazement.

Hugh nodded, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks at Paul’s awe. “Mhm,” he muttered, trying to play it cool. “I’m a cadet, just like you.”

The tricoder let out a beep to let Hugh know that Paul’s nose was properly realigned. Hugh powered off the tricoder, pulling it away from Paul’s face. He set it down on the coffee table before he grabbed a warm washcloth he’d prepared. He brought it up to Paul’s face and started to gently wipe away the blood, lifting his free hand to hold Paul’s head in place.

Once all the blood was gone, Hugh pulled back. “Perfect,” he said. “Now let’s have you sleep off all that alcohol, alright?”

Paul nodded, somber for a moment before a grin cracked his face. “Only if you’ll sleep with me,” he said.

Hugh blinked, mouth opening as a response died on his lips and his cheeks filled with heat. What had happened to the shy, easily-flustered Paul from the cafe? And--boyfriend. Right.

“Ask me again when you’re sober,” Hugh said, standing up. He pulled Paul to his feet as well. Paul fell limply against Hugh’s chest, head resting on his bicep. “I know you can stand up.”

“I broke both of my legs,” Paul claimed. “You have to carry me there.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “You’d be in a lot more pain if your legs were broken.”

“The pain in my heart of you not carrying me there is way worse,” Paul lamented, burying his face in Hugh’s arm.

Hugh didn’t particularly _want_ to carry Paul. Well, alright, he did, but he knew he shouldn’t. But what could be done? Paul likely wouldn’t have moved any time soon, and Hugh wanted to get him to sleep as soon as possible.

“Alright, alright,” Hugh grumbled, shifting his arms. He bent down a little to breezily pick up Paul bridal-style. He didn’t miss the grin on Paul’s face.

“What did I say?” Paul asked, wrapping his arms around Hugh’s neck. “My knight in neon armor!”

Hugh only shook his head as he made his way to his bedroom. He knew Geraldo had volunteered his own bed, but he might’ve walked in late, and Hugh didn’t think Paul would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night.

Hugh stepped into his room, then gently laid Paul down on his bed. He unwrapped Paul’s arms from around his neck before he pulled away, looking down at Paul. Paul met his gaze, eyes still glassy from his drunken haze. Part of Hugh wanted to reach out, to see if Paul’s cheek was as soft as it had seemed while he’d been wiping the blood from it.

“You’re drunk,” Hugh claimed, more for himself than for Paul. “You won’t remember any of this in the morning.” He tried to keep his mouth from twisting into a frown. “Just go to sleep, alright?” He leaned down to pull the blanket over Paul, to keep him warm. “Make sure you stay on your side.”

Paul curled up in the blanket, though he was still watching Hugh. “This is your bed, right?” Paul asked. “You should sleep here, too. With me.”

Hugh wanted to blanch, but he forced himself to instead shake his head adamantly. “Just go to sleep,” he said. “You don’t want me in there with you.”

“That’s not true!” Paul protested loudly. He reached forward to grip Hugh’s sweater, but Hugh took a step back; he couldn’t let Paul drag him in there, which would surely happen with his weakening resolve.

Hugh watched Paul searchingly for a moment before he forced himself to move. “Goodnight, Paul,” he said firmly, then turned around. “Computer, lights off,” he requested as he quickly stepped out of the room. The door slid shut behind him as the lights dimmed.

Hugh sighed, leaning back against the door as he ran a hand over his face. It’d been so tempting to say yes, to cuddle Paul for the night, consequences be damned--but that wouldn’t have been right, given the situation.

With little else to do, and not wanting to wake up Paul, Hugh decided to get some sleep. He pulled off his shirt--he felt sweltering hot, for some reason--as he made his way over to the couch. As he settled down, he used the shirt as a sort of makeshift pillow. It didn’t do much, but Hugh knew he wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep anyway.

His prediction proved to be true, as he ended up staring at the dark ceiling, his mind racing. Paul Stamets was in his bed. Paul Stamets had a boyfriend. Paul Stamets got clingy as hell when he was drunk.

Hugh passed the rest of the night in a dreamless limbo between asleep and awake.


	2. Chapter Two

When Hugh “woke up,” he felt awful. He had a fuzzy ache in his head, and his eyelids felt like they had bowling balls attached to them. He rolled over onto his side, and winced when his neck gave a sharp jab of pain. He’d never be sleeping on the couch again, that was for sure. Why did he do so in the first place, again?

Hugh slowly sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Computer, what time is it?” he quietly groaned.

“It is currently eight thirty-nine,” the computer said.

Hugh sighed, draping his arm back across the armrest. Too early. When had he stumbled in the prior night, again? It must have been around midnight. Better than Geraldo, though, who hadn’t returned at all. Hugh wasn’t worried; Geraldo usually spent the night elsewhere after a party. As long as he didn’t bring anyone back to their apartment, Hugh couldn’t complain.

Hugh pushed himself up into a seated position, glancing around the living room. It took him a moment to remember why he hadn’t slept in his bed; the memory came with a rush of heat, and he whipped his head around to look at his bedroom door. Still closed. Great.

With how bad Paul’s hangover would be, Hugh didn’t think he should wake Paul up. Hugh _did_ have a shift at the hospital in a few hours, though; it would probably be a good idea to take a shower.

He would’ve grabbed something else to put on after his shower, but he didn’t want to step into his room and accidentally wake up Paul. Thus, after he felt clean and refreshed, with his headache flaring up only every few minutes, he grit his teeth as he pulled on the purple sweater again. He would be sure to burn it as soon as they got back to Earth.

When Hugh stepped out of the too-warm bathroom, it was only 0900. He synthesized a mug of tea for himself before he leaned against the counter, filling out reports for his past few shifts at the hospital (with how many he’d been taking, he might’ve fallen behind a little. No big deal; he’d already finished the required amount of shifts).

Hugh finished one out of the four reports he had to do when he next checked the time: 1100. His shift was in two hours. He frowned, looking over at his bedroom door. He really didn’t want to kick Paul out, but who knew how Geraldo would’ve treated him if Hugh left them alone together?

Hugh sighed, slumping his shoulders a little before he pushed off from the counter. He decided to at least come with a peace offering, and synthesized another cup of tea. He would’ve done coffee, but he figured Paul drank enough coffee on his own time.

When the steaming liquid was done, Hugh scooped up the warm mug in his hand and quietly padded to his bedroom door. He took a deep breath, making sure he looked presentable, before he pressed his hand on the scanner, letting the door slide open.

The room was dark, but Hugh could still see Paul’s silhouette--sitting up, staring straight at him. His hair was ruffled in a way that sent a warm butterfly curling through Hugh’s stomach. In an attempt to ignore it, Hugh softly said, “Oh, good. You’re awake.” He stepped further into the room. “I thought for a while you might’ve died.” _Yes, Culber, humor; defuse the tension._

Paul didn’t respond, still too busy staring at Hugh. Hugh frowned; he knew what it must’ve looked like, especially considering Paul probably didn’t remember anything from the night prior. “Are you...feeling alright?” Hugh asked, then mentally kicked himself. Paul probably had a headache big enough to combat Jupiter in size, of course he wasn’t feeling alright.

Paul was silent for another moment before he finally said, “...Yes. Just fine.” His voice was steely. Oh, shit.

Hugh kept reminding himself sternly not to try and make any moves on Paul as he said, forcing a smile, “I’m sorry I brought you back here. You were too drunk to tell me where you lived, and I didn’t want you to wind up hurting yourself.”

Paul nodded before he unsteadily stood up. Hugh nearly reached out to help him, but he held himself back; Paul could handle it, surely. Once he was steady on his feet, he met Hugh’s gaze. “It’s fine. Thank you for...helping me. I apologise you had to see me in such an inebriated state; my roommate grows overzealous when I finally agree to go someplace with him.” He started to toy with the edge of his rainbow sweater. It was much too big; the sleeves nearly covered his hands.

Part of Hugh wanted to see if Paul would look that cute in one of his sweaters, but he quickly threw the thought out of his head. “Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said as he pulled himself together. _Boyfriend, dammit, Culber._ “Everyone says things they regret while drunk.” He shifted his weight a little, hesitating before he held up the cup of tea. “This is for you, by the way,” he said. “To help with the headache you must have.”

Paul slowly shuffled closer, warily eying the cup Hugh was offering. Hugh was tempted to tell him it wouldn’t bite before he finally took it. “...Thank you,” he murmured.

Hugh’s smile widened a little at that. He’d half been expecting Paul to deny it entirely (not that Hugh would’ve blamed him). “Don’t mention it.”

Paul took a slow sip from the tea, his alabaster fingers tapping a little against the ceramic cup. Hugh was about to say something when Paul cut in, “...I hope I didn’t...insult you, or do anything too abrasive last night.”

Hugh shrugged, trying to forget all the blatant passes Paul had made at him. “You were fine,” he said as he turned around and opened the door, so Paul couldn’t see his face. He motioned him through to the living room as he continued, “It was...refreshing, in a way, to see you so carefree.”

Paul stepped through the door and into the living room, looking around, even as he scoffed at Hugh’s comment. “Carefree is one word for it,” he grumbled into his cup. Hugh, again, was _very_ glad he’d cleaned already. He felt a distinct _something_ swell in his heart as he watched Paul look around the room. “I’d call it unprofessional.”

Hugh felt a smirk pull at his lips. How Paul. “Most people don’t think about professionalism at a party,” he said as he brushed past Paul, making his way to the kitchenette. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m not much of a party person,” Paul immediately replied. “Professionalism always matters.” He seemed to register Hugh’s question, then, if the tightening of his hands around the mug was any indication. His gaze trailed away from Hugh, glancing over the appliances, then drifting in the direction of the front door.

“It’s just an offer,” Hugh pushed out. He understood Paul’s hesitation, but he still had to shove past the small monster of jealousy in his heart to force a smile as he continued, “You don’t have to stay.”

“No, I….” Paul hesitated, staring down at his tea. He was silent for a long moment, and Hugh nearly told him that he had a shift starting soon anyway. Before he could, though, Paul said, a small smile in his voice as he continued analyzing his tea, “It’s not as if I have anything better to do.”

Hugh blinked in surprise before a broad, genuine grin spread across his face. Even if they couldn’t date, well...Hugh still enjoyed Paul’s company, at least. Being only friends wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “Great!” he said, trying not to sound overeager. “Take a seat, and I’ll make something real quick.”

Hugh didn’t wait to see if Paul listened to him before he got to work. Something easy, quick, and nutritious. As Hugh perused their ingredients, he pulled out the necessary supplies for egg white omelettes. He focused on cooking, positive that Paul wasn’t a big fan of small talk.

As Hugh cooked the eggs in a pan, he lost himself in the work. He’d had a song stuck in his head since he’d woken up, and he took that moment to start humming it, singing the lyrics in his head. _Wise men say…_

“Back to this again, are we?” Paul asked, interrupting Hugh’s humming.

Hugh paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Paul. “Do you just hate all types of music?”

“No,” Paul said, wrinkling his nose. “I have several artists who I enjoy listening to, thank you very much. I’ve never enjoyed music from the late twentieth century, however.”

Hugh tried not to look too surprised. “Did you recognize what I was humming?” he asked, turning back to the food so Paul couldn’t see the blush creeping up his neck. Why did it have to be a love song?

“Of course,” Paul said, sounding disinterested. “Just because humming in general is obnoxiously awful doesn’t mean you’re not good at it.”

The fire on Hugh’s neck forced its way to his face at that. He told himself not to turn around as he continued to tend to the eggs; how could Paul hand out compliments so carelessly? “Your boyfriend sure is lucky,” Hugh muttered, half to himself.

Paul didn’t respond to that. He probably hadn’t heard it; Hugh was glad for that, as it probably would’ve led to an awkward conversation. “Culber,” Paul said, “do you happen to have a coffee machine?”

Hugh nodded, motioning across the counter. “I’ll start a pot in a second,” he said as he opened a drawer. He grabbed a spatula, carefully flipping one of the omelettes over.

“Oh, I can--”

“No,” Hugh cut in, sliding to the coffee machine. “Too late, I’ve got it.” He quickly started the brew before he slid back over to the omelettes.

“...Thanks,” Paul said, his voice a little distant.

“Don’t mention it,” Hugh replied. “This is almost done, anyway.”

They lapsed into silence then. Hugh didn’t mind; the less he had to talk, the less he could embarrass himself further. Part of him wanted to hum again, but he refrained; he doubted it would be very soothing to Paul’s hungover ears.

Before long, both the omelettes and the coffee were done. Hugh quickly plated the omelettes and poured the coffee into two separate mugs before he slid Paul’s serving in front of him. Hugh didn’t miss the smile that creeped across Paul’s face as he said, “Thank you.” Paul glanced at the coffee before he asked, “Do you have any sugar?”

Hugh nodded; he’d been expecting that. Nobody drank their coffee black if they could help it. He pulled the sugar out of the pantry before he placed it on the counter in front of Paul. He took his own seat as Paul nodded a thanks and started administering the sugar to his coffee via spoon.

Hugh took a sip from his own coffee (he’d already poured creamer into it) as Paul dumped in one, then two, then three spoonfuls of sugar. Hugh slowly put down his cup as Paul dumped in a dozen more scoops. _What the fuck?_ At that point, Hugh had to intervene.

“Are you...alright?” Hugh asked carefully, watching Paul freeze before he slowly, cautiously dumped in two more scoops.

“Just fine,” Paul said, stirring in his sugar. “Why do you ask?”

Hugh started to slice at his omelette. “You’re drinking a cup that’s more sugar than coffee.”

Paul scowled, and Hugh wanted to take the words back. “I just enjoy my coffee with more sugar than most people,” he grumbled before he took a deep drink. “What will you do, call my mother?”

Hugh shrugged a little, taking a sip from his own coffee. “When your heart inevitably fails, I’d have to look after you.” _Not that I’d mind,_ he added in his head. He took a bite from his omelette to keep from voicing his thoughts.

“Why?” Paul asked. He poked experimentally at his own omelette before he sliced a piece off.

“I’m a doctor,” Hugh said, watching Paul closely as he brought the piece of omelette to his mouth. “It’s what I do.” After he took the bite, Paul’s face screwed up in--disgust? Oh, shit, was he allergic to eggs? Hugh should’ve asked. Or maybe he’d just cooked it wrong?

Before Hugh could ask what was wrong, Paul’s face smoothed over again. “You’re a doctor?” Paul asked, swallowing thickly. “I--”

“Huuugh, honey!” Geraldo’s voice called through the front door. Hugh’s blood ran cold as his gaze riveted to Geraldo stepping into the living room. “I’m hooome!” He had a broad smile on his face as he stared at Hugh, not even acknowledging Paul. “You won’t fucking believe the sex I had last night, I--” He stopped when his gaze landed on Paul. “Oh, shit,” he said, blinking. Before Hugh could explain, a lecherous grin crept across Geraldo’s face as he looked at Hugh again. “Damn, man! If you wanted me to stay out later, all you had to do was call.”

Hugh was frozen. On a list of catastrophic events, this was easily in the top five. He felt time slow down.

“I have a lab report I have to finish today,” Paul abruptly said, breaking the spell on Hugh. Paul jumped out of his chair, the cup of coffee still gripped between his hands. He power-walked over to the door, not waiting for a response as he stepped around Geraldo.

“Whoa, wait a sec!” Geraldo said, stepping away from Paul as he walked through the door.

“Paul!” Hugh shouted, standing out of his chair and jogging to the door. When he poked his head outside, though, Paul was nowhere to be seen. Hugh sighed, pulling back into the living room as he muttered, “Dammit.”

Geraldo let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, dude,” he said. “If I’d known Paul Stamets was here, I would’ve toned it down. Fun night, though, I’m guessing.” He tossed Hugh a “wink” over his shoulder.

Hugh sighed, running a hand over his face as he returned to his omelette. “Not as fun as yours,” he muttered. He lifted his voice to shout to Geraldo, “He was just sleeping here because of how drunk he was. Nothing happened.”

“I dunnooo,” Geraldo sang from his bedroom. “You two looked pretty domestic.”

Hugh snorted. “Shut up,” he shouted. He frowned as he looked at Paul’s omelette, missing only a corner, and his half-gone tea.

He knew that Geraldo was right; maybe that was why Paul had run. Eating breakfast with a guy after spending the night in his bed? That would’ve been difficult to explain to even the most understanding person, and Hugh had no idea what kind of boyfriend Paul had. He hoped the guy would at least listen to Paul as he returned to his own plate.

Geraldo all but skipped out of his room, coming to the counter in front of Hugh. He looked down at the unattended omelette. “...So,” Geraldo said, “I know this is for your long-lost love, but--”

“Go ahead,” Hugh sighed. Geraldo cheered and dug into the omelette. “He’s taken anyway.”

“What?” Geraldo asked with a blink, looking up at Hugh. “Seriously? Stamets?”

Hugh nodded, cutting forlornly at his omelette. “Yep. He has a boyfriend.”

“Well...shit, uh,” Geraldo said. “Sorry, man. Plenty of other fish in the sea, though.”

Hugh shrugged. “Guess so,” he said. He supposed having it turn out that way was good; he knew, at the very least, that Paul had purposefully not reached out to him again. He could stop being so hung up on Paul, at least having an answer.

Hugh tried to bury any thoughts of Paul under the medical knowledge he would need for his next two back-to-back shifts.

✩✭✩

Hugh knew that taking a double shift after a party was a mistake. For the last hour of his second shift, he was dead on his feet; he was lucky nobody asked anything demanding of him. He’d been put on reception duty, and was leaning against the front desk, one hand propping his head up as he watched the front doors, gaze glassy and unseeing. He was lucky that there was another cadet there with him, or else he might’ve missed a patient coming in.

“Culber!” Doctor Robutin snapped from down the hall.

Hugh jumped to attention, nearly dropping his head on the counter as he looked around wildly for the doctor. “Doctor Robutin?” he asked, gaze finally settling on the older man standing at the entrance to the hallway. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Get out of my hospital,” Doctor Robutin said. “You’ve been here for way too long, and you’re not helping anyone.”

“I still have an hou--”

“Nothing is gonna happen that needs a zombified cadet,” Doctor Robutin scolded, a scowl crossing his face. “Go home, Culber.”

Hugh sighed; he knew there was no point in arguing with the doctor, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to. It was nearly six in the morning, and he was running on fumes. He nodded, pushing away from the desk. “Alright,” he muttered. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Doctor Robutin gave Hugh a nod before continuing down the hall. Hugh dipped his head at the other cadet in a farewell as he made his way to the front doors.

Hugh took in a deep breath as he stepped out into the early morning air. It reenergized him a little, and he would’ve gone back inside to finish his shift if he hadn’t wanted to sleep so much. He stepped slowly down the sidewalk, grateful that a typical day on Alpha Centauri didn’t start until around eight or nine. He liked the silence.

He nearly fell asleep on the hovertrain ride to the Starfleet dorms. He wanted to know why Starfleet had built the facilities so far from the city. Surely there’d been room right outside the city. He reminded himself to look it up sometime.

Luckily, Hugh didn’t fall asleep during the ride. Once he stepped into the dorm complex, though, he was tempted to lay down on the closest bench and just fall asleep. He forced himself to trudge to his room, though, his eyelids feeling almost as heavy as the backpack on his shoulder.

When Hugh stepped into his apartment, he was relieved to not see Geraldo. He was probably still asleep; it was his day off, after all. Hugh walked as quietly as his tired feet could handle to his own room, the door sliding shut behind him.

“Computer, lights at fifty percent,” Hugh grumbled, dropping his bag in the corner next to the door. When dim lights illuminated his bedroom--the bed unmade, and various clothes strewn over the floor--Hugh heaved a sigh. He was exhausted, but...he could sacrifice a few more moments. He slowly picked up the clothes from the ground before he dropped them down the laundry chute. He stripped down to his boxer-briefs, then gave those clothes the same treatment.

Hugh only had eyes for his bed after that, but a blinking light in the corner of his gaze caught his attention. When he walked over to investigate, he saw his PADD lit up with a message notification. He considered not checking it out, but he sighed and activated his PADD. The message was attached to an unknown number, but after the first sentence, Hugh felt wide awake and was reading with wide eyes.

_Hello, this is Stamets. Thank you for aiding me last night, and I apologise for any inconvenience I may have caused you. It seems I have accidentally taken your mug with me, deepest apologies, is there a time I might return it to you?_

Hugh read over the message at least three times before a sharp pain made itself known in his temple. Alright--quickly reply, then sleep. He could obsess over it when he woke up.

Paul had sent the message about an hour and a half prior; Hugh figured he’d waited long enough for a response. Hugh sat on his bed with his PADD, gnawing on his lower lip as he tried to think of a response.

It should’ve been simple, but he was awake for another thirty minutes trying to craft the perfect message. He kept starting a thread of thought before deleting it. His final message was sparser than he would’ve liked, but the hammer of a headache banging at his skull wouldn’t allow for anything more.

_Hello, Paul! It was my pleasure to help you out. Thank you for reaching out about the mug, though--it’s one of my favorites. I’m sure you’re very busy, so just let me know when you’re free and I can stop by to pick it up (provided, of course, you’re sober enough to tell me which dorm you’re in). Thanks!_

Before Hugh could second-guess himself, he hit the send button. There. It was done. Hugh put his PADD on his bedside table; he was tempted to wait for a response, but if he knew Paul, he knew it’d take hours before he even noticed the message. He was diligent with his work, which Hugh admired; though, based on what he’d seen, Paul could afford to be a little less diligent.

Though, who was Hugh to talk? He was running on a little over an hour of sleep. He shook his head, curling up under his blankets to knock out for at least a few hours. He had another shift shortly, and he had to get as much rest as he could.

✩✭✩

Hugh was back at the hospital eight hours later. He felt much better, though--refreshed and energized. He was far from walking with a pep in his step, but he could at least follow along in conversations.

He’d been assigned to machinery for that day. He was no engineer, but he needed to know the basics of operating the equipment necessary for medical officials, and how to fix things that would be easy to fix in a pinch.

“Have you worked with a tissue reconstructor before, Cadet Culber?” the older woman in front of Hugh--Doctor Jimenez--asked, one hand resting on the machine between them. It had a platform where the patient was meant to lay down, and a metallic arch over the platform with lights inside.

“I haven’t,” Hugh answered, gaze sweeping over the various buttons on the machine. “I’ve only been able to study schematics.”

“Then you’ll want to pay close attention,” Doctor Jimenez said, tilting her head a little. “This machine can be very finicky.”

Hugh nodded, leaning over a little to watch Doctor Jimenez work the machine. There were different procedures for different types of wounds; electrical burns were treated differently than chemical burns or fire burns, and all of _those_ were treated differently from skin abrasions, which were treated differently from--well, that was where Hugh lost track. He was grateful he wouldn’t have to memorize all of it anytime soon.

“Well,” Doctor Jimenez huffed after she finished explaining the last procedure for the tissue reconstructor, “that’s enough of that. What about a lunch break, Cadet?”

Hugh nodded. “That sounds great, Doctor,” he said. He needed some time to absorb what he’d just heard--and besides, his stomach was a little emptier than it should’ve been.

As Hugh and Doctor Jimenez stepped out of the tissue reconstruction room, there was a clamor down the hall. Hugh frowned, turning his head to watch; there were a few orderlies carrying a gurney with a person contorted in pain. Hugh frowned further at the sight.

“Outta the way!” one of the orderlies shouted. “Tissue reconstruction needed!”

The medical staff in the halls flattened against the walls, letting the orderlies through. Hugh followed suit, watching the orderlies as they approached.

The person on the gurney let out a groan before they were close enough to see who it was, but that was enough to make Hugh freeze. The voice was familiar. Hugh refused to put a name to it, but he _knew_ that voice.

When the orderlies rushed past and into the tissue reconstruction room, Hugh’s heart stuttered in his chest. He knew that white-blond hair, and those alabaster hands--though their skin was an angry, raised red.

Hugh didn’t come out of his paralysis until Doctor Jimenez gently touched his arm. “Hugh, are you alright?” she asked.

Hugh gave a jerky nod. “Y-yes,” he said, looking back down at Doctor Jimenez. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but do you think I could--” He stopped, looking at the closed door of the tissue reconstruction room pleadingly.

Doctor Jimenez watched Hugh closely for a moment before she sighed. “You can come in,” she said. “Just stay out of the way, Cadet. You can only watch.”

Hugh riveted his gaze back to Doctor Jimenez, nodding. “Of course, Doctor,” he said.

She scrutinized him for a moment more before she turned around and led them back into the room. The orderlies had already transferred Paul onto the bed for the tissue reconstructor. Hugh kept his gaze locked onto Paul, even as he stepped into a corner obediently. Paul was moaning in pain, thrashing around; Hugh wanted to reach out and comfort him, somehow, but he forced himself to stay still, his heart thudding in fear. One of the orderlies pressed a hypospray to Paul’s neck, and his motions grew more sluggish until he fell limp--unconscious. Hugh let out a small breath of relief.

It was then he realized that Doctor Jimenez was talking. He watched her closely as she worked at the controls for the reconstructor. “What was he in the cultivator for?! How didn’t they know he was in there?”

“Unknown,” came the apathetic chime of the computer’s voice.

“Awful,” Doctor Jimenez grumbled.

The orderlies had since filed out, and the reconstructor was letting out rapid, shrill beeps. Hugh worried his lower lip between his teeth as he carefully watched Doctor Jimenez work. Her fingers flew over the console, with a celerity that Hugh had yet to see from the old woman. Hugh found that he was grateful she’d been so nearby as the beeping slowed down, then lowered in pitch. Eventually, a gentle hum was coming from the reconstructor as the archway moved along Paul’s body, a blue light beaming onto the pieces of burnt and blackened skin.

Hugh kept his gaze locked onto Paul, though he distantly registered Doctor Jimenez approaching him. “Will he be alright?” Hugh murmured, not looking at Doctor Jimenez to ask.

“It’s too early to tell,” she responded in kind. “I’ve medically induced a coma for the time being, to ensure he doesn’t wake up in the middle of reconstruction and freak out.”

Hugh nodded slowly, ripping his gaze from Paul to focus on Doctor Jimenez. That was good; Paul wouldn’t be in more pain than necessary. Hugh couldn’t claim that he wasn’t still worried, though; it felt a little hard to breathe, and his appetite had disappeared.

“Do you know him?” Doctor Jimenez asked softly.

Hugh hesitated before he nodded. He decided not to elaborate. It was a little rude, but he didn’t want to get into the depths of his personal life when he was at work.

“Don’t worry,” Doctor Jimenez said, patting Hugh’s arm gently. “All we can do now is wait for the reconstructor to work its magic. Lunch?”

Hugh frowned, glancing back up at Paul’s still body. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to train his gaze on Doctor Jimenez again. “I’m not very hungry, Doctor. Maybe sometime later?”

Doctor Jimenez looked at Hugh doubtfully, but he tried to exude certainty. He really wasn’t hungry anymore; he could do something more valuable with his time than eat. “Alright,” she said slowly. “Just make sure you do eat eventually, Cadet. If you lose your strength, you won’t be able to help anyone.”

Hugh nodded. “Of course, Doctor,” he said. “Have a good lunch.”

Doctor Jimenez nodded at him before she stepped out of the room.

Hugh’s gaze was inevitably drawn back to Paul again once she was out of the vicinity. Hugh swayed on his feet for a moment before he stepped closer to Paul. He glanced down at him, grimacing at the seared skin before he forced himself to look at Paul’s vitals. He would be fine, Hugh told himself.

Hugh forced himself to turn away from Paul and step out of the room again. He took a deep breath as the door slid shut to recollect himself, but there was another clamor down the hall.

When Hugh looked, he saw a somewhat familiar face coming towards him, worry written all over his face. “Where is he?” the man murmured to himself as he made his way down the hall.

Hugh frowned, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the door. The man stopped in front of Hugh, glancing at the nameplate identifying the room as the reconstruction room.

“Hey,” the man said, jerking his head in a nod at Hugh. “Can I get in there?”

“No,” Hugh said, wearing his best “doctor” face. “We have a patient in there that’s currently receiving delicate treatment, and--”

“Yeah, I know,” the man said, obviously impatient. “I live with him, I know what’s going on. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

Hugh frowned. “You live with Paul Stamets,” he said, if only to clarify.

The man nodded. “Yeah,” he said, obviously getting annoyed. “Call me Straal. Can I go in now? Is your little interrogation over?”

“You’re not allowed in,” Hugh insisted. “Cadet Stamets’s condition is fragile right now. We can’t afford you--”

“Come _on_ ,” Straal groaned. “He’s in there because of me! I at least have to see if he’s alright!”

Hugh felt his face harden, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was less and less impressed with Paul’s roommate with every word out of his mouth. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow, then,” Hugh said. “Please leave, or I’ll have to call security.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Straal said, crossing his arms and puffing himself up. “You’re just a cadet, too--what right do you have to keep me from seeing him? He could be dying.”

Hugh shook his head, before he glanced up at the ceiling. “Computer, please call an orderly to escort Cadet Straal back to the lobby.”

“Please!” Straal said. “Just a peek! I just need to--” He stopped as an orderly appeared out of nowhere and tightly gripped his shoulder. He tried to shake the orderly off, but the orderly’s hand just tightened.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” Hugh said, staring impassively at Straal. “If you leave your contact information at the front desk, the hospital will notify you as soon as his condition is stable and he can receive visitors.”

Straal _tsk_ ed and rolled his eyes. “Uptight asshole,” he grumbled, even as he let the orderly lead him away. He flipped Hugh the middle finger behind his back. Hugh watched him through narrowed eyes until he turned the corner at the end of the hall.

Once Straal was gone, Hugh glanced at the door behind himself before he walked down the hall. There was still plenty to do, he told himself. Paul would have to wait.

✩✭✩

The next three days seemed to take forever, though they also felt like they flew past. Hugh took as many shifts at the hospital as he was allowed (which wasn’t as much as he would’ve preferred). He told himself it was because they were in the latter half of their time on Alpha Centauri, so he wanted to get as much practice as he could, but every time he peeked into Paul’s room, he knew it was a ruse.

Paul stayed under the reconstructor for two days. Whenever Hugh didn’t have anywhere he was told to be, he found himself migrating to Paul’s room. He kept a closer eye on his vitals than he probably had any right to, but he couldn’t help it; if something happened, Hugh wanted to know as soon as possible.

Hugh was embarrassed to admit it, but he wasn’t taking care of himself like he should’ve been, either. He’d started sleeping a lot less, running on two or three hours of rest before he went through another double-shift. The hospital wouldn’t allow him to take three shifts in a row, as it was policy to have at least one eight-hour reprieve for every two shifts, but...Hugh didn’t have much else to do. He wasn’t eating as often, either, usually spending any time he might’ve had for food in Paul’s room. He sometimes brought snacks with him, when he was close enough to the dining room to grab something on his way there.

Straal visited often, though he and Hugh’s relationship did not improve. Once it was pretty obvious that Paul would be fine, Straal was allowed to visit. Every time he stepped into the room, though, Hugh excused himself, his mouth filling with a bitter taste at the concern in Straal’s eyes. Hugh knew he shouldn’t prejudge Straal, but he’d confessed to hurting Paul. Hugh couldn’t fathom how he’d had the mind to.

After Paul’s skin was properly reconstructed, he was moved to a regular recovery room. Shortly after that, Straal brought him some mushrooms. The considerate act made Hugh start to consider; if Straal was so concerned, and was bringing a Stamets-equivalent to flowers, then...perhaps they weren’t simply roommates. Hugh didn’t like the thought, especially after Straal had confessed to hurting Paul, but he couldn’t deny that the math added up.

Straal seemed to visit after that a lot more, which meant Hugh started to wean himself off of the habit of going to Paul’s room. He was a little worried at how deeply he was concerned. He tried to tell himself that it was normal for medical officials to be concerned about their patients.

The day that Paul woke up--the third day since he’d arrived--Hugh made sure he wasn’t in the room. He insisted on keeping himself as busy as possible, because he didn’t want Paul to see the sheer _relief_ in his face. It was enough to know that Paul would turn out fine, Hugh told himself; he didn’t need to see it.

He was on his way to find a doctor to shadow when Doctor Jimenez called, “Cadet Culber?”

Hugh looked over his shoulder at Doctor Jimenez--and realized he was in Paul’s room’s hallway. Dammit. “Yes, Doctor?” Hugh asked as he stopped and turned around to face her more fully.

“Can you get some food for Patient Stamets?” she asked, motioning to the closed door behind her. “I have some diagnostics I have to run on the tissue reconstructor.”

Ah, fuck. Hugh nodded. “Of course, Doctor,” he said. “I’ll do that right now.”

“Thanks, Culber,” Doctor Jimenez said with a nod before she started to walk down the hall. “And make sure he eats it!” she threw over her shoulder.

Hugh nodded wordlessly before he made his way to the dining hall. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near Paul’s hallway. Straal would probably be there--if Hugh were Paul’s boyfriend, he wouldn’t leave his side. Then again, from his track record so far, Straal seemed like a poor excuse for a significant other. Paul deserved better.

But that was neither here nor there. Hugh was at work; he had a job to do. He decided as he stepped in front of Paul’s door, a tray full of food in his hands, that he would conduct himself with as much professionalism as possible. He would be the epitome of clinical courtesy.

When Hugh stepped into the room, his eyes naturally landed on Paul. Paul was laying back in his bed, his eyes closed; he might’ve been asleep if Hugh didn’t know better. He seemed...almost angelic, in a way. Hugh decided that that metaphor was far too morbid before he shoved it from his mind. Luckily, there was no sign of Straal; Hugh was disappointed in how bad a boyfriend Straal was, but was grateful he wouldn’t have to deal with the jealousy he felt whenever he saw Straal around.

“Hey, Paul,” Hugh said as he approached the console next to Paul’s bed. He would’ve used Paul’s surname, but if Paul _was_ asleep, Hugh didn’t want to startle him awake. “I’ve got some food here for you. I’m going to raise the bed, alright?”

When Paul opened his eyes--damn, could Hugh get lost in those eyes--and looked over at him, Hugh pressed a button on the console, lifting the upper half of Paul’s bed so he could comfortably sit up.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Hugh said as he situated the tray on its stilts above Paul’s lap. He knew Paul probably would’ve preferred silence, but Hugh couldn’t stop talking as he sat down next to Paul’s bed. “They’re going to make sure you keep to a strict diet while you’re here.”

Paul didn’t respond for a few moments, staring down at the food. Hugh was almost worried before Paul’s arm lifted jerkily. Hugh frowned when Paul grabbed the pudding cup first, quickly taking a spoonful from it. “What are you doing here, Culber?” Paul asked, glancing at him.

Hugh gave Paul his best doctor smile. _Epitome of clinical courtesy_. “Just making sure you’re recovering alright, Stamets.” Paul’s surname felt clunky in Hugh’s mouth, but he forced himself to use it anyway. It would allow him to keep a more professional distance.

“That makes sense,” Paul muttered, still digging into his pudding. He seemed a little distanced--likely from the painkillers. “You work here, right?” Paul asked between bites. Before Hugh could answer, though, Paul frowned down at the empty pudding cup. “Can you get me another one of these?”

Hugh felt a frown tug at his lips, glancing back at the still-stocked tray. “You need to eat everything else on that tray,” he said. “A healthy diet will help you recover quickly.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Paul said, almost bored. He waved around the pudding cup. “Why can’t I just have another one of these?”

 _Seriously?_ Hugh almost asked that aloud, but he tactfully said instead, “There’s essential nutrients within everything else that you need to eat.”

Paul nodded. “Yes,” he said as he carefully set the empty cup down, “but what about the nutrients in the pudding cup?”

Hugh couldn’t help but stare at Paul. He was joking, right? He had to be joking, but there seemed to be no trace of laughter in his eyes. He had to know that people couldn’t get _all_ their nutrients from pudding. Hugh wanted to ask, but he was afraid that trying to open up Paul’s past would ruin his professional demeanor.

“Compromise,” Hugh finally settled on. “You eat the rest of what’s on the tray, and I’ll get you a second pudding cup.”

Paul stared at Hugh for a few moments, and Hugh was afraid he’d say no before he finally nodded. “Fine,” Paul said, turning back to his tray. Hugh watched him look over the options; Paul glanced over at Hugh, as if to see whether he was _really_ making him do this, before he grabbed a fork and stabbed the tines into a strawberry. Hugh almost nodded in approval.

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Paul asked. “Something important to do?” He watched Hugh as he bit down on the strawberry.

Truthfully, the answer to that was yes. Hugh was in the last few minutes of his second of a double-shift, and he was exhausted. He tried not to communicate that, though, as he said, “Making sure you’re recovering fully is my top priority.” He meant it, though he hoped it didn’t sound too sappy.

Paul didn’t respond, which Hugh wasn’t sure how to take. He kept eating his fruit, though, which Hugh was grateful for. Hugh leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, looking around the room, as Paul ate.

The door slid open then, and Hugh froze as his gaze landed on Straal. “Heeeey, Stamets,” Straal said, an easy grin on his face. “How you doin’?”

“Straal?” Paul asked, surprise covering his face. “What are you doing here?”

Hugh stood up abruptly, planning on slipping quietly out. When Straal looked up at him, though, he knew he had to give an excuse. “I remembered I have a second patient I have to check up on,” Hugh said, boring holes into Straal’s skull--or trying to. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said as he briskly walked to the door. He brushed past Straal on his way out, not _really_ caring whether or not he shoved him into the doorframe.

Hugh was halfway down the hallway before he slowed down, guilt clogging his throat. He shouldn’t have left; that’d been childish. He’d been told to make sure that Paul ate all his food. Hugh might’ve felt better about leaving if Straal seemed to care one iota about Paul’s wellbeing.

Hugh let out a huff as he reached the end of the hall, turning down a corner randomly. Epitome of clinical courtesy, his ass. He couldn’t even stay in the same room as someone he disliked--how could he expect to really go anywhere in the medical field? He wanted to blame it on his feelings for Paul, but...there was no real justifiable excuse. He just hated being reminded about Straal in general, not to mention his treatment of Paul. It was almost like they weren’t even dating.

Hugh rubbed the back of his head, letting out an aggravated sigh before he turned on his heel, walking slowly back to Paul’s room. He _did_ have to make sure Paul finished his food, after all. Maybe he’d bring another pudding cup as a peace offering, and when he returned, he’d just tell them that his other patient had been asleep. A bitter taste filled Hugh’s mouth when he thought about seeing Paul and Straal actually interact, but he had to work harder at being professional in adverse conditions.

Hugh was nearly back to Paul’s room when Doctor Robutin ran into him--almost literally, as he was stepping out of a patient’s room. “Ah! Cadet Culber,” he said, clapping his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “Good, exactly who I wanted.”

“Doctor Robutin,” Hugh greeted with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve practiced handling a sprained finger, yes?” Doctor Robutin asked. Hugh nodded, and the doctor’s smile seemed to grow. “I thought so! Come with me, I have someone you can help.”

Hugh gave a helpless glance to Paul’s door. He really should’ve returned as soon as possible, but Doctor Robutin was already leading him down the hallway. Hugh looked forward, resigning himself to his fate; it wouldn’t take that long, surely.

Doctor Robutin led him into another patient’s room, containing an Andorian woman. She was sitting politely on the bed, hands folded in her lap gingerly. One of her fingers seemed discolored.

“Miss Yoru’ka,” Doctor Robutin said. “My sincerest apologies for the wait.”

“It is no trouble,” she replied, giving a courteous smile, before her gaze slid to Hugh. “Who is this?”

“This is Cadet Hugh Culber,” Doctor Robutin introduced. Hugh gave the woman a polite smile and a nod. “I’ll be leaving treatment of your injury in his capable hands.”

The woman blinked, her gaze turning a little unsure. “Oh,” she said. “Alright, then.”

Hugh stepped closer to her, polite smile still on his face. At least he knew how to handle regular patients. “Don’t worry, Miss Yoru’ka,” he said, grabbing the tricoder from the table and configuring it for Andorian physiology. “I’ve done this a thousand times. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”

She seemed to relax a little at that. Once Hugh was done configuring the tricoder, he held out a hand. “May I see your hand, please?”

She placed her injured hand in Hugh’s lightly. It was cold and smooth, almost like a stone. Hugh gripped it gently as he waved the tricoder over the discolored finger, watching the scanner levels closely as the woman’s finger slowly returned to its normal azure hue. Once it was there, Hugh put the tricoder back on the table. “Just another moment,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile. “It’ll have to be wrapped for the next twenty-four hours or so, to ensure the realignment sticks.”

The woman nodded, and Hugh bent down a little to grab some wrapping tape out of a drawer. He quickly and neatly bound the woman’s finger to one of its brothers with two strips of tape, before he released her hand. “And you’re free to go. Thank you for your compliance.”

“Thank you, sir,” the woman said, holding her hand up as she examined the wrapping.

“Good work, Cadet,” Doctor Robutin said, already face-deep in his PADD as he filled out the necessary paperwork. “You can go.”

Hugh nodded at Doctor Robutin before he walked out of the room, immediately heading towards Paul’s room. At least it’d been something easy, and not--

Hugh snapped to attention when he heard loud beeps coming from Paul’s room. He _knew_ he should’ve stayed. He picked up the pace, shouting, “I’ve got it!” to the nurse rushing towards the room. The nurse held their hands up, letting Hugh rush into the room.

He didn’t spare Straal a glance as he hurried up to Paul’s console, eyes glancing over the screen. Sheesh, his heart rate was going crazy--what the fuck did Hugh miss? “Are you alright?” Hugh asked, looking at Paul.

“Yep,” Paul said with a nod, and Hugh resisted the urge to frown. “Just fine. Why do you ask?”

Hugh motioned towards the monitor. “Your heart rate raised to 120, which alarmed the system.” He glanced at Straal, who was busy trying to look innocent; Hugh wouldn’t have been surprised if he had something to do with it. He looked back at Paul then as he asked, “Did something happen?”

“Just me reminding Straal how much of an idiot he is,” Paul said, leaning back easily. “It’s all fine.”

Hugh frowned. That sounded like a lie if he’d ever heard one--but what could he do? If Paul didn’t want to tell him the truth, then….

Hugh looked back at Straal, puffing himself up authoritatively. “Visiting hours are over,” he said, voice stern. “You should leave.”

Straal scowled at Hugh. “Fuck you,” he said, “it’s only 1300.”

Hugh had been expecting a fight. He dropped all pretend politeness as he said, “You’ve put my patient in distress, and he’s just barely woken from a coma. I have the jurisdiction to ask you to leave, which I’m using. Would you rather I call security again?”

“Fine, whatever,” Straal said, standing up. As he stood, he kicked the chair a little, where it hit Hugh’s leg. Hugh continued staring, steely-eyed, as Straal slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back later, Stamets.”

“...Alright,” Paul responded after a moment. “Go to the lab and check on the latest batch. They should be ready sometime...soon?”

As Straal stepped out of the room, Hugh looked back at Paul, his shoulders dropping. He was too tired for displays of dominance like that.

Paul was watching Hugh closely. Before Hugh could speak, Paul said, “Culber. How long was I out for?” Paul’s mouth was drawn tightly, and his eyes seemed a little harder than normal. His painkillers were likely wearing off.

“You were in a medically-induced coma for three days,” Hugh answered. “It was required to ensure that the tissue reconstructor could operate properly.” He pressed the call button for a nurse; he couldn’t administer painkillers himself, unfortunately. Not that he would, based on how little Paul had eaten after Hugh had disappeared.

“A--a medically-induced coma?” Paul sputtered. “For _three days_?”

Hugh nodded, but before he could say anything, the nurse stepped in, a polite smile on his face. “Cadet Stamets,” the nurse--Kingsley, if Hugh remembered correctly--said with a nod. Hugh stepped away from the console so Kingsley could take his spot. “I need you to eat everything on that tray, please.”

“What?” Paul asked, and Hugh was grateful Paul didn’t make things difficult just for him. “Why? What if I’m just not hungry?”

“Your body requires nutrients, and without the proper amount, I can’t safely give you a higher dosage of the painkiller you’re on,” Kingsley said as he tapped the screen. “It’s already begun to wear off, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. So just finish it all up, and everything will be better, okay?” He glanced back at Hugh, and Hugh could feel the small scold as he continued, “Our cadet here will make sure you’re doing well, and ensure you actually eat everything before he leaves.” Kingsley looked back at Paul with a polite smile. “I’ll be back soon.”

Hugh resisted the urge to rub the back of his head, embarrassed. He was glad Paul didn’t ask about the scene with Straal. Hugh wasn’t sure he had the energy to lie; his eyelids wanted to stay closed with every blink, and he was sure he was slouching terribly. As Paul started to eat more of his fruit, Hugh listlessly looked around the room, not thinking of much in particular.

“Culber,” Paul said, his voice jolting Hugh out of his reverie, “you clearly seem exhausted. I’m sure the hospital has no use for a cadet in your condition. You should return home.”

Hugh straightened his back, watching Paul closely as he tried to wipe away all signs of fatigue. He was...touched, he decided, that Paul had noticed, but he couldn’t leave yet. “I have a job to do,” he said. “It’s fine.”

Paul raised an eyebrow as he chewed thoughtfully. After he swallowed, he wrinkled his nose a little. “Your work saves lives,” he said. “I believe there’s an amount of alertness that such finesse requires.”

Hugh appreciated the concern--especially from Paul, which made his chest warm up--but really, he had to stay. He gave Paul a practiced smile and tried to redirect his attention. “You were in a tissue reconstructor for three days,” he said. “You should be worried about yourself.”

Paul shrugged nonchalantly. “Please,” he said, “I’m in perfectly capable hands. If I so much as breathe incorrectly, 50 people would rush into the room.”

Hugh sighed, though he couldn’t force down his smile. “Alright, you win,” he huffed. “I’ll go home when the nurse comes back.”

Paul nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

They lapsed into another silence then as Paul continued whittling away at his food. He seemed to go for the strawberries first, if Hugh wasn’t mistaken. Maybe that would be the key to getting Paul to eat healthier. Hugh made a mental note to try it sometime.

After the fruit was gone, and Paul had cleared some of the small carrots, he set his fork down. “I can’t eat any more.”

Hugh lifted a brow; he hadn’t even touched the sandwich. “You really should,” he said, fighting a frown.

Paul shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. “No.”

“You should at least--”

“No,” Paul interrupted, his voice firm.

Hugh stared at Paul. He was the pickiest eater Hugh had ever met, by _far_. Still, Hugh couldn’t very well spoonfeed him, and he’d likely eaten enough for the painkillers. Hugh shook his head before he leaned over a little to press the call nurse button. Hugh stepped out of the way a moment before Kingsley walked in again, polite smile on his face.

“How are we doing?” Kingsley asked, voice upbeat and perky. Uh-oh.

Paul scowled at him. “I have no wish to be patronized,” he snapped.

Kingsley ignored the sour command, stepping up to the console. He tapped at it as he glanced at Paul’s tray. “If you don’t feel like eating everything now, you’ll have to make it up later.”

Hugh grimaced at the levels showing on the console. Paul’s sugar levels were sky-high, while his sodium levels seemed to be barely over dangerously low, not to mention the stark lack of any vitamins at all. What did the man eat?

“I don’t care,” Paul said. “Whatever clears me the quickest. I have to return to the lab immediately.” Hugh almost snorted. How typical.

“You’ll be here for at least 48 hours,” Kingsley said. “Your body needs time to rest and recover from the intensive reconstructing. This is the easiest way to monitor your vitals in case something goes wrong.” He picked up a hypospray injector, orienting himself towards Paul. “Don’t move.”

“What?! No!” Paul exclaimed. “Impossible, there’s no time for me to just sloth about.” Hugh sympathized with Paul, but he needed to take care of himself first.

Kingsley put a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Don’t move,” he commanded again, before he pressed the nozzle of the injector against Paul’s neck. Paul’s limbs immediately seemed to relax.

“I have...so much to do,” Paul murmured as the painkillers worked through his body. Hugh wished that Kingsley had explained that the painkillers had a sedative effect, but he wasn’t the nurse. “There’s simply no...time,” Paul finished before his eyes fluttered shut--unconscious.

“Jeez, what a pain in the fuckin’ ass,” Kingsley muttered, all prior perkiness gone. “How did you stand sentry duty, Culber?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. With Paul asleep again, he just wanted to get back to his nice, warm bed. “Well enough,” he said. “I like him.” At Kingsley’s wide-eyed expression, Hugh hurried to revise, “I mean--he isn’t as bad as everyone says. Is what I meant.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, tired.”

“Riiiight,” Kingsley said. “You should go home, then. Get some shut-eye. Sleeping Beauty won’t be awake for a long while yet.”

“Right,” Hugh grumbled, electing to ignore the Sleeping Beauty comment. “I’ll see you later, Nurse Kingsley.”

Kingsley snorted as he turned back to Paul’s console. “See you, Cadet Culber.”

Hugh walked out of the room without much fanfare. As he made his way down the halls, he felt a little like a zombie. He couldn’t wait to fall into a short coma of his own once he reached his bed.


	3. Chapter Three

“Hey,” a voice whispered into Hugh’s ear, stirring him from his sleep. “Huuuuugh. Psst. Wake up.”

Hugh groaned, hugging his pillow closer as he buried his face into it. “Whug...?” he grumbled, not too concerned about sounding incoherent.

“When’s your shift again?” Geraldo asked. “Twenty hundred, right?”

Hugh took a second to recall, the cogs in his head feeling rusted over with sleep. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well,” Geraldo said, “it’s about ten minutes till then, so I--”

“ _What_ ,” Hugh said, whipping his head around to look at Geraldo, suddenly wide awake.

“Yeah, it’s--computer, what time is it?” Geraldo asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“It is currently 1952,” the computer calmly said.

“Shit,” Hugh hissed, literally rolling out of the bed and onto his feet. “Fuck! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!” he demanded as he ran to his closet.

“Well, I didn’t remember until just now,” Geraldo said with a shrug. “And I mean, you really looked like you needed your sleep, man. You were dead on your feet.”

“Dammit,” Hugh grumbled, tugging on his pants, nearly falling over as he did so. “Thanks for waking me up, at the very least.”

“At this point, you could probably just call in,” Geraldo said. “It’ll take you at least an hour to hovertrain over, and that’s if you don’t have to wait for the train.”

“What a shitshow,” Hugh sighed,  waddling over to his PADD as he tried to pull on his second pant leg. He tapped at the display, calling Doctor Robutin.

Hugh managed to finish pulling on his pants before Doctor Robutin answered. “Cadet Culber? Where are you? You’re usually so early!”

“I’m very sorry, Doctor Robutin,” Hugh said as he started to struggle into his shirt. “I overslept, and didn’t wake up until just now.”

“No problem,” Doctor Robutin said. “You needed the rest, I’m sure. I was meaning to tell you something, actually; seeing as you’re able to handle Cadet Stamets so well, I’ve decided to assign you to him.”

Hugh nearly ripped his shirt. “What?!” He didn’t miss Geraldo’s impish expression.

“None of the cadets can get him to eat his food,” Doctor Robutin explained, “besides you, of course. Is there a problem?”

“N-no!” Hugh said, pulling down his shirt. “No problem at all, Doctor. I was just--surprised.”

“Good,” Doctor Robutin said. “I’ll explain a bit more once you get here, then. My shift is about to end, though, so if you can’t find me, just look for Doctor Jimenez.”

“Understood,” Hugh said, picking up his PADD. “I’ll see you soon, sir.”

“See you soon, Cadet,” Doctor Robutin said before Hugh ended the call.

“Ohoho,” Geraldo said. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Hugh! How long has your man been in the hospital?!”

Hugh shook his head as he sat on his bed to pull his socks and shoes on. “He’s not my man, and today is the fourth day.”

“Oh!” Geraldo exclaimed. “That’s why I’ve barely been seeing you! C’mon, dude, you could’ve said _something_.” His face alighted in a grin. “But you were assigned to him! This is great!”

“No,” Hugh said. “Not great.”

Geraldo frowned. “What, do you hate him now?”

“No,” Hugh sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just….”

“It’s the boyfriend,” Geraldo said.

“That makes me sound petty,” Hugh said with a frown.

“Maybe a little,” Geraldo conceded. “What’s the problem, though? Is he the perfect man?”

Hugh snorted. “Just the opposite,” he said. “He’s the one that put Paul in the hospital.”

“No way!” Geraldo gasped. “Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” Hugh said with a nod as he pushed himself off the bed. “I have to go.”

As Hugh started to walk to the front door, Geraldo followed after him. “Wait! You can’t drop _that_ and then just leave! What did he do?!”

“Turned on a cultivator while Paul was inside,” Hugh said, trying to sound detached rather than angry. “Probably an accident, but….” He shrugged as he grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“That’s fucked up!” Geraldo said. “Okay, here’s what you do--you seduce Stamets, and save him from his evil boyfriend.”

Hugh snorted. “Not likely,” he said. “I’m his doctor, basically. I don’t need another cadet or nurse to see me flirting, report it to someone, and get me in a scandal. I can’t afford that.”

“Then what are you gonna do, man?” Geraldo asked.

Hugh shrugged again as he opened the door. “My job,” he said before he stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll catch you later, Ger.”

“Flirt your ass off!” Geraldo shouted before the door slid shut.

Hugh had to wait 25 minutes for the hovertrain. He was nervously bouncing a leg the whole time, almost obsessively watching the minutes tick past the 20:00 mark. Why had he slept so much? Surely Paul’s recovery couldn’t have been _that_ big of a relief to him. ...Right?

On the hovertrain, Hugh felt a little calmer, but he still felt guilt rooting around in his stomach. He hadn’t been late to a shift on Alpha Centauri yet. He hadn’t thought his first tardiness would be due to something as stupid as oversleeping. He should’ve set an alarm.

When Hugh made it to the hospital, he’d been properly marinating in a stew of self-hatred for a while. Doctor Robutin was nowhere to be seen--likely already on his way home--so Hugh looked for Doctor Jimenez.

He found her in the tissue reconstruction room, probably running more diagnostics on the machine. “Doctor Jimenez?” Hugh asked as he stepped further into the room.

“Ah!” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Cadet Culber, yes, yes, come in. Kyle told me to expect you just before he left.”

“He said that you have more information about my assignment?” Hugh prompted.

Doctor Jimenez nodded. “I do,” she said. “You’ll be in charge of Cadet Stamets--ensuring he has the proper nutrition, and is taking an interest in his own recovery.” She glanced back at him. “You’ll be able to do that, yes?”

Hugh hesitated before he nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, “but Cadet Stamets can be very...stubborn.”

“Then you’ll just have to be _more_ stubborn,” Doctor Jimenez said. “You can do it, Culber. He’s asleep now, but he’ll be waking up at around eight thirty--you’ll still be on shift, won’t you?”

Hugh nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll check on him then.”

“If he does what he’s supposed to, he’ll probably be released tomorrow or the day after,” Doctor Jimenez continued.

“I’ll make sure he sticks to the recommendations,” Hugh promised. “Is there anything I can do for you now?”

Doctor Jimenez waved a hand. “No, I can handle this. Go see if any of the other doctors need help.”

Hugh nodded. “I’ll see you later, then, Doctor Jimenez,” he said, already backing out of the room. “Good luck with the reconstructor.”

“Good luck with Cadet Stamets!” Doctor Jimenez said before the door slid shut between them.

Hugh took a deep breath before he walked down the hall. For reasons he couldn’t place, he was a little nervous to see Paul. At least he had twelve hours to work all that out.

Hugh ended up shadowing Doctor Liadrin for about two hours before she left. Once her shift ended, Hugh worked the reception desk for four more hours. At that point, his growling stomach pushed him to head to the dining hall.

It was mostly empty--it was two in the morning, after all--but there was still a table filled with a group of cadets, talking and chatting energetically. Hugh managed to grab a sandwich with wilty green lettuce and a cup of yogurt with granola in it before he sat down, a few tables away from the group and unnoticed by them, as evidenced by their conversation.

After a raucous round of laughter, one of the cadets asked loudly, “Okay, okay, but what about Stamets getting fried?” That elicited another round of laughter.

“They _had_ to have known those mushrooms were getting to him,” a different cadet said. Hugh bit the inside of his cheek and decided to eat quickly rather than start a scene.

“Oh, definitely,” a third cadet agreed. “With how quick he turned away every cadet with food? Like, what the fuck?”

“Did you hear Culber got assigned to him?” the first cadet asked. “Poor son of a bitch.”

“Culber’s too nice for him,” a fourth cadet piped up. “I heard he slapped someone for getting too close to his ‘shrooms. Stamets, I mean.”

The group laughed again, though their voices dipped in volume as they continued to gossip. “His boyfriend brought him some!” the second cadet said. “Mushrooms, that is. Do you think that’s why he doesn’t eat?”

One of the cadets snorted. “Fuckin’ probably. Weird mushroom strength or some shit. I don’t see how Culber will be able to get him to eat.”

“Mushroom-shaped food,” one cadet suggested, eliciting some laughter.

“The power of seduction,” another suggested.

“Gross!” the first cadet laughed. “With Stamets? Seriously?”

“Hey, he doesn’t look half bad,” the third cadet said. “Personality of a Pontian boarwhale, but still.”

Hugh had heard enough. He abruptly stood up, picking up his tray with its half-eaten sandwich and empty yogurt bowl. He walked away from the gossiping cadets, blocking out their murmurs as he stepped to the conveyor belt that took used trays. Hugh slid his on before he briskly walked back out of the dining hall, the edge at least taken off of his hunger. Six more hours until contact with Cadet Stamets. He could last, probably.

Hugh returned to front desk duty. Nothing ever happened during the night hours; no patients called for help, and none ran in. Hugh toyed with the idea of flipping his shifts to the daytime hours, but he knew nobody really liked to work during the night, and he had no real issues with it. It was just a bit boring.

Just as Hugh was beginning to doze off, he realized it was nearly 08:30. Paul would be waking up. Hugh stepped away from the front desk, grateful that there was another cadet manning it, too. He walked to the dining hall, trying to suppress a yawn the whole way.

Once he reached the dining hall, Hugh was sort of at a loss. What would Paul be most likely to eat? Hugh grabbed a pudding cup, of course, because that much was obvious. He filled a cup with strawberries, and put a few carrots on a plate, but was lost at that point. A sandwich was a neutral food, right? He was sure Paul couldn’t object to that too harshly. He put the sandwich on the plate with the carrots before he stepped over to the drinks.

Coffee was out of the question. Hugh knew Paul took it with way more sugar than he would ever need. Hugh grabbed a cold bottle of water instead, then made his way out of the dining hall.

Hugh felt a little anxious as he made his way to Paul’s room. He couldn’t discern why. He tried not to focus on it too much once he stood in front of Paul’s door. It slid open in front of him, and Hugh stepped through.

Paul was sitting up, his PADD on his lap in front of him. “Hey, Stamets,” Hugh greeted. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hello Culber,” Paul replied, glancing down at his PADD. “I see you’re back here again.”

Hugh nodded, stepping closer to Paul. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said almost apologetically, “so I took a guess.” He carefully situated the tray over Paul’s lap. Paul took a moment to survey the food before he plucked the water bottle off the table, unscrewing the cap and taking a big gulp from it.

Hugh sat in the chair beside Paul’s bed, relieved he’d chosen the water first. Once Paul pulled the bottle from his lips, Hugh asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Paul said with disinterest. “As well as one could be in this sort of state.”

Hugh nodded. “That’s good,” he said. He had to resist the urge to grin as Paul took a bite out of his sandwich. It seemed he _could_ eat something with a little more nutritional value than just sugar.

He would be feeding himself again soon, Hugh reminded himself. He frowned a little. “...You’ll be going back home in a day or two,” he said, in case nobody had told Paul. Part of Hugh wanted to offer...something, a hand of friendship, but--

“What?” Paul snapped, glancing at Hugh. “Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

Hugh frowned at Paul’s apparent intuition. Or mind-reading abilities--who knew? Still, Paul _had_ asked, so Hugh didn’t see any harm in offering.

“If you need any help,” Hugh said carefully, “like if anything is wrong, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be there.” Hugh tried to keep the sourness out of his voice as he said, “Especially if _Straal_ doesn’t bother to do anything.”

Paul snorted, quickly swallowing his bite of sandwich. “Straal?” he asked. “Please, I don’t think he’d care if I collapsed on the ground in the kitchen right in front of him. Unless it damaged our spores, of course.”

Hugh frowned, the words igniting... _something_ in him. Before he could stop himself, he said coldly, “Your boyfriend should care about your well-being, Paul.” It didn’t take long for Hugh to regret the words. He grimaced, and opened his mouth to apologize--

\--But Paul was choking on a bite of sandwich. Hugh jumped up, ready to do the Heimlich, but Paul waved him off, grabbing his bottle of water. He took a sip, his coughs calming down, though he still had a bright blush on his face.

“My _what_?” Paul asked, voice hoarse. “Straal is my roommate and my research partner. What on Earth gave you the impression we were dating?”

Hugh tried to fight the embarrassed blush. _Oh, shit._ Another top-five in the list of catastrophic events. “Well,” he said in an attempt to explain, “I just thought, I….” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Why hadn’t he just asked before? “So--so you don’t have a boyfriend…?” he asked, almost afraid to raise his hopes.

Paul’s blush deepened. “I--I don’t, no.”

Hugh stayed silent. _Fuck._ Well, Paul being single was good--for Hugh, anyway. He didn’t think he’d ever feel the strength to ask Paul out, though--the situation was embarrassing enough. Part of Hugh was still tempted to do it then and there, but he pulled himself back with a deep inhale. _Professional, Culber. Remember where you are._

“I’m sorry,” Hugh began. “That was unprofessional. I don’t mean to presume about your personal life.”

Paul gave a sad, insincere smile in return. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m used to it. It’s easy to assume when I only have one friend.”

Hugh had never felt his heart break so quickly. In an attempt to salvage the situation, he quickly said, “And here I was thinking we were growing friendly.”

Paul blinked--surprise?--before he looked down at his food. “Are we?” he asked quietly. “Oh.” He didn’t say anything else before he bit into a carrot.

That was fine by Hugh--he’d embarrassed himself enough in front of Paul for a lifetime. He averted his gaze before he sat down in his seat again, expecting Paul to stay silent.

Thus, Hugh was surprised when Paul said, “So...I still have to return your mug.”

Hugh smiled--he’d forgotten about the mug while worrying over Paul’s life. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “You can give it back to me sometime when you’re out.”

“Technically true, yes,” Paul said as he grabbed another carrot. “I would usually just tell my roommate to grab it, or have you go there and give it to him. However...you two don’t seem to get along. Did something happen?”

Hugh forced himself not to hesitate as he shrugged. _Keep it cool, Culber._ “When he came in here after you’d been transported, he admitted he’d been the one to cause this to happen to you,” Hugh said carefully. “I...considered him a threat. You nearly died; it was an apt enough guess.”

Paul scoffed. “Straal’s done far stupider things,” he said. “It’s just not often that I’m caught up in them.”

He was whittling away at the food on his tray, which Hugh was grateful for; maybe he _would_ be out of there by that following day. Hugh was glad, but a small part of him was disappointed, as well. He wouldn’t have any reason to see Paul once he was gone.

“There’s a chance you’ll be waiting a while,” Paul said, catching Hugh’s watchful gaze. “For your mug, that is. I have a lot of research I need to catch up on, and there will be many a-sleepless night as I attempt to finish up.”

Hugh frowned. “Increasing your levels of stress and sleep-deprivation will have the opposite effect of what you need,” he said, already having flashbacks to the caffeine-powered Paul he’d met in the café.

Paul shrugged with apathy. “My research is more important than my wellbeing.”

Hugh’s frown grew more pronounced. “That’s not true.”

“My research will revolutionize space-travel,” Paul said. “There’s no reason my singular existence is more important than that.” He leaned back, about a quarter of the food left on his tray. “Which is why I need to return to it as quickly as possible.”

Hugh analyzed the tray critically. Paul had barely touched the sandwich, and the carrots didn’t seem to be that much of a fan favorite, either (though he had eaten all of the strawberries, thankfully). “That’s not going to happen at this rate.”

Paul scowled at Hugh for a moment before he tapped at his PADD. “Why is that?”

Hugh stood up, stepping over to the computer and swiping through to Paul’s vitals. “There’s still worry about the spikes in your vitals since you’ve come out of the reconstructor.” They’d leveled out since Paul’s arrival, but they were still far from acceptable. “You won’t be cleared until at least tomorrow morning,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Paul snapped.

“I think it is,” Hugh said, looking back at Paul.

Paul met his gaze unflinchingly, returning it with a cold glare. Part of Hugh wanted to look away, but he forced himself to keep the eye contact. He wouldn’t let Paul force Hugh into not helping, that was for damn sure. After a minute of silence, Paul’s scowl deepened as he looked away.

“Fine, whatever,” Paul snapped. “Let the future of science die.”

Hugh almost snorted at the melodramatic statement. “A single night won’t change the future of science.”

Paul crossed his arms and scoffed. “What do you expect me to do for the next--what? Twelve, twenty-four-odd hours? There’s absolutely nothing here.”

Hugh could empathize--he frequently was bored in the hospital himself, but still. “Relax, Stamets,” he said. “The body can’t handle constant extreme levels of stress. If you really want to get out of here faster, you’ll just need to accept what the doctors here tell you to do.”

“I’m fine,” Paul said, still glaring at Hugh. “Really. All of this isn’t necessary.”

“The medical professionals disagree,” Hugh said. “Their opinion is the one that matters. The more you defy them, the longer you’ll have to stay.”

Paul huffed a little, glancing down at his PADD again. “All you’re telling me to do is eat my carrots,” he said. “That hardly seems beneficial.”

“If you ate anything with any nutritional value, we wouldn’t have to insist on a better diet,” Hugh said. He pulled himself back--that was a little too personal. “It...would just behoove you to be more aware of what you’re consuming.”

Paul stayed silent, still tapping at his PADD. Since he was obviously done with his meal, Hugh stood and took the tray. “I’ll come see you again in a few hours,” he said. He shifted a little uneasily before he added, “You should take food from the other cadets, too. My shift is almost over.”

Paul snorted. “What’s the point?” he asked. “They all run away as soon as I look at them.”

Hugh didn’t have any trouble believing that, though he didn’t like it. “Think of it this way: if you eat at least _some_ of the food they give you, you’ll get to leave sooner. It’s a win-win.”

“Mm,” Paul hummed quietly, eyes analyzing some words on his PADD. He glanced up at Hugh, gaze lingering for a moment. “...I’ll consider it,” he said, voice somewhere between grudging acceptance and defiance.

Hugh nodded. “That’s all I ask,” he said. As he stepped out of the room, he threw over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in a bit, Stamets.”

As Hugh made his way back to the dining hall, he felt...lighter, almost. He’d been worried over nothing. Well, he was still a little worried over how healthy Straal and Paul’s friendship was, but at least Paul was...available.

Whatever that was worth, Hugh thought with a frown as he slid the tray on the conveyor. What if he’d already ruined his chances by assuming Paul was with Straal? Based on Paul’s face, it hadn’t been the first time someone had done so.

Oh, shit. What if Paul had a crush on Straal? Some sort of unrequited thing. Fuck, that would just make everything more compli--

“Cadet Culber!” a voice shouted, snapping Hugh out of his reverie. When he whirled around, he spotted Doctor Liadrin. “What are you just standing there for?”

“Sorry, Doctor,” Hugh rushed to say, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck. Right--he was still at work. He could speculate about Paul and Straal later. “Can I help you with something?”

“That you can,” Doctor Liadrin said, jerking her head a little. “Follow me, Cadet. Try to keep up.”

Doctor Liadrin led Hugh through some routine check-ups, rebandaging several patients, performing an ultrasound, and treating a starship captain who had a piece of shrapnel lodged in her side (she pulled through just fine).

Doctor Liadrin didn’t let Hugh go until about fifteen minutes before his shift ended, at noon. Hugh was properly exhausted; he hadn’t been put through the ringer like that since...well, alright, it happened at least once per shift, but still. Doctor Liadrin was as perfect as a perfectionist could get, and Hugh always felt very drained after helping her out.

Still, he had one last thing to do before he could leave. He tried to perk himself up as he walked to the dining hall, already putting together a list of foods for Paul. Strawberries, because of course; pudding, for the same reason; maybe a few carrots, but some celery too, just to see how he liked it. Maybe Hugh could put peanut butter on it; he’d had ants on a log a lot as a kid, and he was curious to see Paul’s reaction to it. Besides that, maybe trying a different fruit would be good, too? Strawberries were rather sweet, though not very citrus-y. What other fruits were like that? Melon? Almosian starfruit, maybe? As for liquid, water was a must, but maybe Hugh could see to getting Paul some coffee, too. He must’ve been having some withdrawals.

By the time Hugh was leaving the dining hall, he had: a cup of strawberries (with some honeydew melon and sapphire-colored Almosian starfruit, just to test); carrots (with two pieces of celery with peanut butter slathered in their gutters); some sort of pasta salad (since they’d been out of sandwiches--damn lunch rush); a bottle of water; and a small cup of coffee (with Paul’s requisite seventeen spoonfuls of sugar, though the sugar was just artificial sweetener).

When Hugh stepped into Paul’s room, he saw two projections from Paul’s PADD. One was a projection of a 3D chessboard that Paul was staring at with a concentrated furrow between his brows. The other was Straal’s head, projected next to the chessboard.

“Check,” Paul said, almost sounding bored.

“Bullshit,” Straal said. “Where?”

“E5-3,” Paul said. “My knight. Use your eyes.”

“I’m using them,” Straal said. “Maybe you should use _yours_. That’s my queen, dumbass.”

“Oh, is it?” Paul asked, before he swiped his finger through the projection. “Not anymore.”

“Dammit, Stamets!” Straal said.

“You should’ve moved her,” Paul said with a shrug. He seemed to notice Hugh, then. “Oh,” he said with a blink. “Culber. You’re back.”

“I am,” Hugh said with a nod, glancing uneasily at Straal’s floating head. “I have your lunch.”

“Ooh, should I hang up?” Straal asked, implication heavy in his voice. Hugh wasn’t sure what he meant, but judging by Paul’s blush, it was nothing good.

“No need,” Paul said. “I am. Bye.”

“Wai--!” Straal said, before Paul tapped on his PADD. Straal’s head disappeared, as did the chessboard.

“You didn’t have to hang up,” Hugh said, even as he set up the tray above Paul’s lap. He disliked Straal, but he didn’t want Paul to feel like his presence meant Straal had to go. “I wouldn’t have been intrusive.”

Paul eyed Hugh closely before he said, “It wasn’t you I was worried about.”

Hugh lifted a brow as he sat in the chair. “Then what were you worried about?”

Paul looked away, his gaze carefully analytical as he inspected the food. “Straal talks too much,” he finally said as he reached for the coffee cup.

Hugh wasn’t surprised at Paul’s choice. He waited for Paul to continue, but he didn’t. “I can’t say I disagree,” he said, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, getting comfortable. He suppressed a yawn before he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“You ask me that every time you come in here,” Paul said, taking a cautious sip from his coffee. It seemed to be to his liking, because he took a bigger gulp from it.

“It _is_ my job to look after your wellbeing,” Hugh said, watching Paul carefully. “If you drink that any faster, you’re going to choke.”

Paul didn’t respond until he’d drained the cup dry. “I’m feeling much better now that I’ve actually had something of substance,” he said, setting his cup down. He glanced at Hugh. “I don’t suppose you’d get me another cup.”

Hugh shrugged. “Maybe tonight,” he said. “We’ll see.”

Paul sighed, obviously displeased by Hugh’s answer, as he grabbed the pudding cup. Hugh felt a little bad, but if Paul didn’t get some actual food, he would have a much harder time leaving the hospital.

Hugh didn’t offer any of those little nuggets of wisdom, though. His blinks were growing slower and sleepier, though he made sure to watch Paul at least until after he finished his pudding.

Hugh realized he’d dozed off when Paul said, “Culber.”

Hugh jumped a little, instantly riveting his gaze on Paul. “Yeah?” he asked. He couldn’t have fallen asleep in a chair in the middle of the hospital. Definitely not.

“Were you...asleep?” Paul asked, one brow lifted a fraction.

“No,” Hugh said, straightening his back as he stood, trying to erase all signs of slumber. “I was waiting for you to finish.” He swept a gaze over Paul’s tray; the pasta salad was, unsurprisingly, barely touched, though the fruit (save for the cubes of melon, sitting sadly at the bottom of the cup) was gone. So were both sticks of celery, one carrot, and half the water. Sheesh, how long did Hugh have his eyes shut for?

Paul was watching Hugh analytically. Hugh tried to ignore his piercing gaze, stepping over to the console to tap at it and check his vitals. They were almost down to healthy levels; Paul’s sugar levels had dipped to something that might’ve been alright, and his vitamins were much higher. Hugh was relieved at that.

“You seem exhausted whenever you come here, Culber,” Paul commented.

Hugh glanced at Paul, giving him a polite smile. “Well, it’s usually been the end of my shifts when I’ve seen you, so that’s probably it.”

“Shifts?” Paul asked, lifting a brow.

Hugh shrugged a shoulder as he tapped the _call doctor_ button. “I usually do double-shifts,” he said, carefully not watching Paul as he said that. Hugh wasn’t ashamed of it, of course--he just...didn’t want to seem like he was looking for a reaction.

Before Paul could respond, Doctor Jimenez stepped into the room. Hugh stepped obediently back as she walked towards the console, a smile on her face. “Hello, Paul,” she said.

“Doctor,” Paul greeted. “Am I free to go yet?”

“Let’s see here,” Doctor Jimenez murmured, flipping through Paul’s different vitals. After a moment, she said, “Yes, everything seems to be in order here. You’ll be fine to go tomorrow morning. Although….” She pursed her lips as she looked at Paul. “Your muscles are still weak from the events they’ve been through; you’ll need someone to help you return to your dorm. If you don’t have anyone, we can assign a cadet to--”

“My roommate will be able to,” Paul quickly cut in. “There’s no need for that.” Hugh doubted that, but he stayed silent; he wasn’t supposed to make himself known when a doctor was informing a patient of their options.

“Great,” Doctor Jimenez murmured, marking something on her PADD. “Then let me just give you a small dose of painkillers.” She picked up a hypospray injector, setting her PADD down on the table before she turned to Paul. “Hold still, please,” she said, setting a hand on his shoulder. Paul didn’t flinch as she pressed the nozzle to his neck and injected him. “There you are.”

Paul seemed to visibly relax, a soft sigh escaping him. “Thank you,” he said.

“Someone will be by to check on you in a bit,” Doctor Jimenez said, patting Paul’s shoulder as she picked her PADD back up. She walked back to the door, giving Hugh a nod as she breezed past.

Once she was out of the room, Hugh picked up the tray of food. “I’ll get out of your hair now,” he said. “You can continue your game with Cadet Straal, if you’d like.”

Paul nodded, a frown pinching his lips as he watched Hugh. “When will you be back?” he asked, the words blending together quickly, as if he had to push himself to ask.

Hugh blinked, surprised at the question. “Er,” he said, “this is the end of my shift, so I won’t be back until tonight, around twenty hundred.” He added, half as a command and half as a suggestion, “You _should_ eat dinner before then.”

Paul glanced at his PADD, nodding. “We’ll see,” he said. “I’ll see you later, Culber.”

Hugh nodded. “Stamets,” he said as a farewell before he stepped out of the room. Hugh would’ve rather died than admit it, but that small nap he took gave him enough energy to get to the dining hall, put Paul’s tray away, and leave the hospital.

Hugh nearly missed his stop on the hovertrain with how hard he was trying to stay awake. As he stepped up to the door to his apartment, Geraldo came out, already dressed in his scrubs.

“Hey!” Geraldo said as he stepped past Hugh. “C-man! How’s the boyfriend situation?”

“Nonexistent,” Hugh grumbled as he stepped into their apartment.

“What?!” Geraldo shouted before the door slid shut between them.

Hugh felt a little guilty, but he was too tired to explain at that moment. Besides, knowing Geraldo, he was already late. Hugh would explain to him when they both had some free time. ...Which might not be until they were back on Earth. When would that be, again? Two weeks? Three? Hugh had lost track.

Not that he particularly cared at that moment. He only managed to pull off his shirt before he collapsed on his bed, face shoved in a pillow, shirt still gripped in one hand. He would’ve undressed further, but he was already drifting off to sleep.

✩✭✩

The calm voice of the computer woke Hugh up.

“Cadet Culber, you have a visitor,” it said. Hugh groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. “Cadet Culber, you have a visitor.”

“Computer, what time is it?” Hugh grumbled.

“It is currently 1525.”

Hugh puffed out a breath. Who the fuck would be visiting him? He told himself he’d just lay down for another minute.

“Cadet Culber--”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hugh groaned, pushing himself off from his wonderful bed. He stumbled to his bedroom door; if it hadn’t been automated, he would’ve smacked right into it. He shuffled to the front door, yawning loudly as he stretched. Once he reached the door, he pressed a hand to the scanner.

When the door slid open, Hugh saw a complete stranger. It was a shorter woman, with curly brown hair. She had her hands clasped behind her, though once she saw Hugh, her eyes widened. It was then that Hugh remembered he hadn’t put a shirt on. Oh, boy.

Before Hugh could ask what the hell was going on, the girl asked, “Um! Cadet Culber?”

“That’s me,” Hugh said, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm. “Who are you?”

“My name is Cadet Freesia Everett,” she said, her eyes still wide. “I--I’m sorry, did I come at a bad time?”

Hugh shook his head, feeling a bit more alert. “No, it’s fine,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “It’s nice to meet you, Everett. What can I do for you?”

“Freesia, please,” she said. “Um….” She trailed off. “I, um, was hoping you’d be able to help me study, actually. For the final that we have to do at the end of this internship.”

Hugh lifted a brow. “That’s in a few weeks.”

Freesia nodded. “I don’t like cramming,” she whispered.

Hugh nodded. Sure, alright. “Can I ask why you decided to come to me?”

“Well…” Freesia hummed, looking anywhere but at Hugh. “You’re one of the top cadets on Alpha Centauri right now--you have the most hours, so...I figured if anyone could help, you could.”

Hugh resisted the urge to sigh. He was fantasizing about his bed. “I’m flattered you came to me, and I’d be glad to help, Freesia,” he said, “but...don’t you have any other medical track friends that could help?”

Freesia shook her head. “They’re hopeless,” she said. Hugh lifted a brow, and she scurried to explain, “I mean--they’re all great friends and I love them, but they’re the ones usually coming to me for help, you know? So I can’t go to them because they’ll be relying on me.”

Hugh nodded, glancing over his shoulder. He understood completely; that was usually his and Geraldo’s relationship. To be fair, though, Geraldo had been a lot better since they’d gotten on Alpha Centauri--Hugh guessed it was because it felt real, finally, rather than all hypothetical.

“You’re aware it’s a practical exam, right?” he asked, looking back at Freesia.

“That’s the worst part!” Freesia squeaked. “I _freak_ on written exams, I can’t imagine how bad a practical exam will be! One of this caliber, anyway.”

Hugh inhaled deeply. He could already tell he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep for a while. “Alright,” he said, moving to the side. “Come on in.”

Freesia blinked at him--probably surprised--before she hurried in, the door sliding shut behind her. “Give me a minute,” Hugh said, walking to his room. If he was going to tutor someone, he wouldn’t be shirtless during it.

Hugh just went over the basics with Freesia, following the study guide. She didn’t know a few things, but for the most part, Hugh didn’t think she had anything to worry about. If anything, her shaky hands would get her docked a few points, but with practice (and relaxation techniques), she’d be able to remedy that.

Still, it would be an extensive test. They didn’t finish going through the study guide the first time until 18:30, and by then, Hugh had to start getting ready.

“My shifts last from twenty hundred to twelve hundred,” Hugh said as he escorted Freesia to the front door, “so if you feel like you need more help, I’ll be here any time other than that. Probably.”

“Thank you so much for your help, Culber.” Freesia gave him a small smile as she stood outside the door, but it quickly dropped. “Actually, I, um, did have a question.”

“Another one?” Hugh asked, giving Freesia a teasing grin. “What is it?”

“Um! They’re saying that you were assigned to Paul Stamets. Is that true?”

Hugh’s smile slowly faded away. He didn’t like where this was going. “It is,” he said slowly.

“Well, um,” Freesia said, looking down at her feet as she nervously scuffed at the floor. “I was just wondering...um...what’s he like…?”

Hugh lifted a brow. Weird, but alright. “A lot better than everyone else seems to think,” he said, crossing his arms. “Why?”

“Well, um,” Freesia said, fidgeting with her hands. “I--I think he’s really cute, so I wanted to see if, um, we could get some coffee together or something,” she rambled, her words going a mile a minute, “but all my friends keep making fun of him so I wanted to see if I could convince them otherwise, but I don’t know him very well myself so I figured that since _you’re_ assigned to him that you could, uh, tell them the truth.”

Hugh stared at Freesia for a long moment. There was a lot to unpack there. He felt a few conflicting emotions; on one hand, he was--angry, he decided, that people were still making fun of Paul. He’d have to do something about that. On the other hand, the thought of Paul going with someone else to get coffee...Hugh didn’t want to analyze what _that_ emotion was.

Hugh took a deep breath. Part of him wanted to tell Freesia to forget about it, but he knew that that was only because he had feelings for Paul himself. That didn’t give Hugh the right to run off everyone else interested in Paul, did it? He--

“Culber?” Freesia asked quietly, staring with wide eyes up at him. Oh, right.

“Sorry,” Hugh apologized reflexively. He gave Freesia a tight smile. “Who are your friends? I’ll see if I can’t knock some sense into them.” When Freesia blinked and looked worried, he added, “Figuratively, of course.”

“Thank you so much, Culber,” Freesia said, a bright grin overtaking her worried expression. “They’re Cadets Stevens, Luo’ka, and Prishki!”

“Stevens, Luo’ka, and Prishki,” Hugh repeated. “Got it. Now, if you don’t mind…?”

“Oh!” Freesia said. “Of course! I’ll go now.” As she moved down the hall, she waved at him. “‘Bye, Culber!”

Hugh gave Freesia a nod and a polite smile before he closed the door. He decided not to think too hard about Freesia trying to make a move on Paul, and quickly got ready for his shift. He was on his way to the hospital within ten minutes.

The first thing Hugh did when he reached the hospital was check on Paul, who was already asleep. Hugh was a little disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised; Paul needed his rest, and the painkillers they gave him for the night were no joke. Hugh checked on the log; Paul had been put to sleep about four hours before Hugh had arrived, so he’d be waking up around...noon, the very end of Hugh’s second shift. Great.

Hugh glanced at the sleeping Paul, mentally saying goodbye. He noticed the blanket nearly falling off, though, and scooped down to tuck it safely around Paul. He refused to analyze that instinctive action as he quietly stepped out of the room, preparing himself for the long shifts ahead of him.

✩✭✩

Hugh was getting tired of being exhausted at the end of every shift (pun somewhat intended). He’d been paired with Doctor Liadrin again, and she made sure he wasted no moment. For the first four hours of his shift, she pulled him from patient to patient. Hugh appreciated all the practice, but he was a little afraid of how long Doctor Liadrin could go at full-energy. He wanted to be a doctor like that, of course, but it was still intimidating to see firsthand.

After those four hours, Doctor Liadrin let him off the hook, her shift having ended. Hugh was grateful; his stomach was growling thunderously. He’d forgotten he hadn’t eaten breakfast (or dinner, technically). He made his way to the dining hall for what he’d hoped would be a quick meal.

He quickly realized he wouldn’t be having a quick meal. It was midnight, but there was, yet again, a table full of cadets--Hugh spotted Freesia with three others. Oh, boy.

Freesia didn’t seem to notice Hugh, which he was grateful for. He peacefully gathered his food--an apple and a sandwich--before he sat down, a few tables away from the chatting cadets. If they brought up Paul again, he would say something. If they didn’t, then he would let them be. Easy.

They talked about normal cadet stuff for a while--the upcoming final, previous classes, their own experiences on Alpha Centauri so far. When Hugh had finished his sandwich and half his apple, however, their conversation turned to gossip. Hugh had to strain his ears a little to be able to hear them; it seemed that they’d gotten smarter since the last time he’d listened in.

“Luo’ka, you had to bring Stamets his dinner, didn’t you?” one cadet asked, then snorted. “How bad did he yell at you?”

“You know, he just glared,” a second cadet--Luo’ka, Hugh assumed--replied. “I got outta there as quick as possible, though. He’s so creepy!”

Hugh rolled his eyes as a third cadet said, “I know! I went in to check his vitals for Doctor Jimenez and he didn’t even look at me. No ‘hi’ or anything.”

“Maybe Culber wears some kinda spore or some shit,” the first cadet said, laughter in his voice.

“Stevens!” a third cadet hissed, though they were obviously stifling laughter.

“What? You think he’s more of a pheromone guy?” Stevens asked, chuckling lightly. “Hey, Freesi, maybe that’s your in.”

“I don’t like him!” Freesia protested loudly. “Come on, guys!”

“Ooh, are you sure?” Luo’ka asked. “You’re not just saying that because we ‘keep making fun of him’?”

“You’re the ones that put me up to it!” Freesia complained. “You guys are the _worst_.”

Hugh frowned. Well, that pissed him off even more. He stood up loudly, not bothering to grab his tray before he walked over to the table of cadets. “Hey,” he said loudly. A hush instantly fell over the table as four pairs of doe-eyes turned towards him. He hoped he looked as murderous as he felt.

Once Hugh was close enough, he crossed his arms, looking at each and every one of the cadets. As he spoke, he stared at Freesia. “None of you know Cadet Stamets,” he said firmly. “None of you have any right to talk about him like this.” He swept his gaze over the rest of the group. “And if I hear it again, I’m reporting each and every one of you. Knock this shit off.”

The group stared at him for a moment before one--Stevens--scoffed. “For what?” he asked. “All we’re doing is _talking_. You don’t even know who--”

“Cadet Stevens,” Hugh interrupted. “You know how seriously Starfleet takes infighting. I’m sure bullying falls under that.” He fixed Stevens with his coldest glare for a moment. When nobody said anything else, Hugh nodded and stepped away. They didn’t start talking again from the time he grabbed his tray to when he left the room.

After that, Hugh was powered by sheer spite--for another four hours or so. Doctor Robutin had picked up Hugh outside of the dining hall, and led him around the hospital. Doctor Robutin was a lot less intense than Doctor Liadrin; he was much more leisurely, though he likely did just as much work. Most of his work, however, included paperwork. He had Hugh read through the logs of patients for four hours, to ensure nothing fishy had happened that day. (Hugh tried not to linger on Paul’s for too long. They mostly included reports of uneaten meals.)

It was 0400--halfway through Hugh’s shift--before Doctor Robutin let him go. No other doctors requisitioned Hugh’s help after that, so he went to take the spot of one of the cadets manning the front desk. They seemed a little relieved as they relinquished their chair to him.

Hugh manned the front desk until 0800. The most exciting thing that happened was Kingsley managing to throw a ball of paper into the trash can from across the room. Hugh managed to get caught up on the shift reports he’d been procrastinating on. He made a mental note to stay more on top of those.

When 0800 rolled around, Hugh excused himself to take care of his roaring stomach. He was glad when he didn’t see any of the cadets he’d yelled at, but he was less glad when he saw all the sandwiches were already gone. Dammit. He had to satisfy himself with just a cup of yogurt-and-granola. He was feeling a little tired, but he forced himself to eat quickly and stand up, before he could grow lethargic.

Doctor Jimenez hailed him down then, and he shadowed her for the last four hours of his shift. Doctor Jimenez mostly handled the tissue reconstructor (Hugh _did_ learn how to do diagnostics), though she went around and checked on patients, too. The last patient they checked on was Paul, who--right on time--was sitting up, already awake.

He was talking to somebody on his PADD--probably Straal. Straal was saying, “--was there at nine, and where were you? Fucking asleep. And now I’m at the lab--”

“Straal,” Paul said. He seemed to be holding his temper through a Herculean effort. “If you do this, I’ll give you those data trends.”

“Don’t need them anymore,” Straal said. “Hey, why don’t you see if your cadet can--”

“Fuck off,” Paul said, glancing at Doctor Jimenez and Hugh. Oh, so he _had_ noticed them come in. “I have to go.”

“Tell him I said--” Straal didn’t get a chance to finish as Paul ended the call, pressing the disconnect button with what seemed like no small amount of satisfaction.

Paul set his PADD down, turning his gaze to Doctor Jimenez and Hugh. “Doctor,” he greeted. “Culber.”

Hugh gave Paul a small smile and a nod as Doctor Jimenez said, “Good afternoon, Paul. Are you feeling ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready since I first awoke,” Paul said.

“Mm, sure,” Doctor Jimenez hummed, flipping through Paul’s vitals. “Everything--except for your diet, of course--seems good. I assume that was your roommate you were speaking to?”

Paul nodded, his mouth twisting sourly. “I’m afraid so.”

When he didn’t continue, Doctor Jimenez prompted, “It sounded like he’s not coming to get you.”

“Apparently not,” Paul said, glaring down at his PADD, as if Straal could’ve felt the force of his anger. Hugh wouldn’t have been surprised if he could’ve, honestly.

“That’s no problem,” Doctor Jimenez said. “Culber, when does your shift end?”

Hugh blinked, looking at her. Oh, boy. “My shift is already over, Doctor,” he said.

“Really?” Doctor Jimenez asked. At Hugh’s nod, she shrugged. “Oh. Well, good news then, Paul.” She offered him a smile. “You don’t have to wait any longer. Cadet Culber can take you home as soon as we’ve checked you out.”

Hugh looked over at Paul to gauge his reaction, and jumped a little when their gazes met. Paul’s lips were pressed in a thin line, but other than that, there was no indication of what he thought about the situation.

“Is that fine with you?” Doctor Jimenez prompted.

Paul looked from Hugh to her. “Yes,” he answered. “That’s perfectly satisfactory.”

Coming from Paul, that felt like a golden star of approval. Hugh had to shove down his smile.

“Great,” Jimenez said, tapping on her PADD. “Culber, would you go get a wheelchair, please?”

“Right away,” Hugh said. He could already hear Paul’s complaint as he walked out of the room, but he let Doctor Jimenez handle it. The wheelchairs were at the front desk, folded away. Hugh grabbed one and was back in Paul’s room within five minutes.

“There he is,” Doctor Jimenez said once Hugh rolled the wheelchair in. “Culber, you know the drill, yes?”

Hugh nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Is Cadet Stamets ready to leave now?”

“Yes,” Paul immediately said.

Doctor Jimenez let out a small chuckle. “Yes, he’s ready. Go ahead.”

Hugh pushed the wheelchair over to Paul’s bed, situating it so that Paul would have no trouble getting in. “Please take a seat, Cadet Stamets,” Hugh said, giving Paul a reassuring grin and standing nearby. “I’m here if you need me.”

Paul snorted, even as he pushed the blanket off. “I won’t,” he said firmly. He set his feet on the ground, though he waited for a moment before he pushed himself up. His hand immediately lunged out, tightly gripping the console--but he didn’t fall. Hugh tried to act like his hands hadn’t raised to help of their own volition.

Paul glanced at Hugh, his chin tilting up pridefully, before he sat--well, collapsed, really, into the wheelchair. Hugh couldn’t keep the encouraging smile off his face as he walked to the back of the wheelchair, turning it so that Paul was facing Doctor Jimenez.

“Great,” Doctor Jimenez said. “I have another small dose of painkillers for you here, Paul,” she said, lifting a hypospray injector.

“I don’t think--” Paul said.

“With all this moving around you’ll be doing, you won’t want to feel the pain,” Doctor Jimenez said. “Your current painkillers are about to wear off, but this should get you to your dorm, if you don’t take any unexpected detours.” She glanced up at Hugh, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Hugh didn’t like that.

Paul was silent for a moment, before he sighed. “Fine,” he said, reluctance stark in his voice.

“Great,” Doctor Jimenez said again. She stepped closer, quickly pressing the nozzle to Paul’s neck and pressing the trigger. His muscles relaxed a little as Doctor Jimenez backed away, already tapping on the console’s screen. “And with that,” she said, looking down at Paul, “you’re free to go. Congratulations, Paul.”

“Finally,” Paul murmured, voice already sleepy. Hugh could empathize; he was already ready to pass out himself.

“You can take him home now, Cadet,” Doctor Jimenez said with a nod to Hugh. “Good luck. His painkillers should last for about two hours.”

Hugh nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Doctor Jimenez nodded wordlessly at Hugh as he rolled Paul out of the room. He turned down the hall, keeping a wary eye out to make sure he didn’t ram Paul into anything. They reached the front desk uneventfully, which was where Hugh had to stop. “Stamets?” he asked, looking down at Paul’s head.

No response. He’d probably fallen asleep. Hugh stepped around the wheelchair, crouching down in front of it so he was eye-to-eye with Paul. Yeah, he’d fallen asleep. Hugh felt a smile quirk his lips; cute. He reached a hand out to tap Paul’s arm. “Paul?” he asked softly.

Paul’s eyes blinked open slowly, unfocused before they landed on Hugh. “Whuh…?”

Hugh’s heart swelled. Cute. “I’m gonna need you to stand up for a second, okay?” he asked. “I need to put the wheelchair back.”

Paul’s lips tugged down in a frown. “But I’m comfortable,” he mumbled.

The man would be the death of Hugh, he knew it. “I’m sorry,” Hugh said quietly. “It won’t work outside of the hospital; the wheels will lock up.”

“Just...get rid of the wheels,” Paul muttered.

Hugh tried not to snicker too much. “I’m afraid I don’t have any tech nearby to convert it into a hoverchair, sorry,” he said.

“That’s _your_ fault, then,” Paul grumbled, though he looked a little more lucid.

“I’ll lodge a complaint during my next shift,” Hugh said, still smiling broadly. “I _do_ need you to stand up, though.”

“And if I refuse?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Then you get to stay here longer.”

Paul sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Fine.”

Hugh straightened and stepped back as Paul pushed himself up. Hugh watched him closely, ready to jump to action if he started to fall. Paul managed to get to his feet, though he had to grip tightly on the counter of the desk to stay upright. Hugh didn’t keep him like that for long; he stored the wheelchair and was back at Paul’s side in a few seconds, offering his arm.

“You can hold onto me,” he said. “To keep from falling. Let me know if you need a break, and--”

“I can walk,” Paul said, glancing at Hugh.

Hugh gave him a doubtful frown. “I’m not sure--”

“I am,” Paul said. He took a step, as if to prove his point. His knees buckled, though, and Hugh quickly caught him around the chest before he could fully collapse. Paul was silent before he muttered, “...Thanks.”

Hugh nodded, unwrapping his arms from around Paul, though he kept one hand on his back, to steady him. “It’s either you use me as a crutch, or I carry you to the station,” he said. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

Paul sighed, glancing at Hugh again. “...Fine,” he said after a moment. “Give me your arm, then.”

Hugh nodded, offering his arm. He felt distantly like a gentleman from the--what was it? The nineteenth century? Paul eyed his arm warily, as if he was afraid of it, before he looped his arm through Hugh’s. He took an experimental step, and leaned into Hugh to save himself from falling.

“Is that so bad?” Hugh asked, slowly leading Paul to the front doors.

“Don’t gloat,” Paul said, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m not happy about this.”

Hugh couldn’t keep an exasperated smile off his face. That was his Paul. Except it wasn’t _his_ Paul, he reminded himself strictly, looking away as he wiped the smile off his face. It was just Paul Stamets (not that it was ever _just_ Paul Stamets, but Hugh tried to ignore that).

Hugh opened the door for them. “Like I was saying,” he started, “if you need a break, don’t hesitate to say so. There’s no shame in it; I’m here for you.” In his head, Hugh added that he’d be there for Paul as long as he wanted him to be.

Paul was silent for a moment, watching Hugh closely as he slowly stepped through the door. “...Right,” he said, looking away.

They made their way slowly down the sidewalk. Hugh made sure to keep a close eye on Paul, to ensure he wasn’t needlessly pushing himself. Hugh’s eyes were drooping with exhaustion, but he would make sure that Paul was home safe before he gave in.

They made it to the hovertrain depot in record time (if the record was for the most amount of time taken). Not that Hugh minded, of course; he didn’t have anything better to do. Even if he did, he was glad to be helping Paul.

“Do you want to sit, or--” Hugh started once they reached the depot.

“No,” Paul interrupted, glancing at Hugh. “I’m fine standing.”

Hugh nodded. “Oookay,” he said, looking out at the tracks. “Do you have any plans for when you get back?”

“Catching up on my research,” Paul said. “The Academy said that I’ve done enough, but I haven’t until I’ve finished.”

“Wait, what?” Hugh asked. “The Academy said you’ve done enough?”

Paul glanced at Hugh, giving a nod. “Due to my injuries, they said that my internship on Alpha Centauri has been automatically completed,” he said, then rolled his eyes. Displeased.

“That’s...great,” Hugh said. “Just because now you don’t _have_ to work yourself to the bone. You can get plenty of rest. Which you should.”

Paul huffed. “Did you bring this up just to tell me not to work?”

“No,” Hugh said with a frown. “I was just curious.”

“Good,” Paul said. “Because you won’t have the power to keep me from working this time.”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder; he was a little concerned about that, but he wouldn’t show it. “I can just show up at your doorstep at odd hours of the day.”

Paul snorted. “You don’t know where I live.”

“I’ll know after today,” Hugh said.

“And what if you see Straal?”

“Then he gets some tips on wellbeing, too,” he said. “I won’t let you hog all of them.”

Paul’s lips twitched in a grin. “He’d hate that.”

Hugh nodded. “See? You _want_ this to happen.”

Paul shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he said. “But if you happen to scold Straal anytime, please send me a recording.”

Hugh snickered. “Definitely,” he said. “You have my word.”

They stood in silence for a few moments. The hovertrain roared in the distance. “So...other than catching up, you have no plans?” Hugh asked, glancing surreptitiously at Paul.

“None that I know of,” Paul answered, looking at Hugh analytically. “Why are you so interested?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder noncommittally. “Like I said,” he answered, “I’m just curious about you, Paul.”

Paul didn’t respond. Hugh glanced at him, content to see his lips pursed a little. As long as he’d heard Hugh, that was fine.

The hovertrain appeared then, skidding to a stop in front of them. Hugh waited for it to fully stop before he escorted Paul inside. There were only a few people in that particular segment of the train; Hugh helped Paul sit down on a bench before he sat down next to him.

Hugh got comfortable easily as the train started to pull off. They had a long ride ahead of them. He wasn’t intending to sleep, but his eyelids were getting more and more difficult to keep open. He glanced at Paul, who seemed to be having the same issue. His eyes were shut entirely, in fact, and if Hugh didn’t--

The train jolted a little, and Paul’s head fell down onto Hugh’s shoulder. Hugh blinked, his eyes widening. He waited for Paul to move off, but he didn’t. Oh, boy. Hugh felt a lot more awake after that--was his shoulder too high? Would Paul get a crick in his neck like that? Was he moving too much?--but after about twenty minutes, his drowsiness returned.

Hugh wanted to fight against it, to enjoy the moment, the warmth of Paul’s head on his shoulder, body lightly knocking against his, but...he couldn’t. He felt safe, almost--and for an exhausted Hugh, that was an invitation to knock out. His last thought before sleep enveloped him was _I don’t want this to end_.

✩✭✩

Someone was shaking Hugh’s shoulder. Hugh cracked his eyes open, which was a monumental task on its own. “Hugh,” Geraldo whispered, right in front of Hugh’s face.

Hugh jumped a little, looking around. Right--on the hovertrain. He glanced at Paul, who was leaning fully against him at that point, still asleep.

“You better get off,” Geraldo whispered. “It’s about to take off.”

Hugh nodded--right. He tried to shake off his sleepiness as he stood up. There was no time to shuffle Paul out of the train, probably, so Hugh fitted his arms around Paul, lifting him up breezily, bridal-style. He nodded at Geraldo in thanks as he quickly made his way off.

“I want details!” Geraldo called, an impish grin on his face. Hugh rolled his eyes at him before the door shut between them and the train pushed away.

Paul shifted a little, and Hugh looked down at him with wide eyes. “Hugh…?” Paul asked quietly, his eyes opening a crack.

“Sorry,” Hugh said softly, trying to ignore the blooming in his chest. “The hovertrain was about to take off, so I had to...take matters into my own hands. Do you want me to let you go?”

Paul shook his head, not responding verbally as he closed his eyes again and snuggled deeper into Hugh’s arms. Hugh had to exert a tremendous amount of self-control to not drop Paul in shock.

“...Right,” Hugh muttered, before he started to make his way towards the dorms. “Where do you live, Paul?”

Paul’s voice was muffled in Hugh’s chest, but he could just barely make out the answer. “In my apartment.”

Hugh let out a short puff, his lips twitching in a smile. “Sure, but which one?”

“Two-six-five,” Paul muttered.

“Got it,” Hugh said.

Paul didn’t say anything else as Hugh walked. Hugh was surprised he didn’t stumble into anything, with how exhausted he still was; of course, he thought with a glance down at the top of Paul’s head, he had plenty motivation to not do so.

When Hugh stepped in front of Paul’s door, he was convinced Paul had fallen back asleep. He didn’t say anything when Hugh stopped, and didn’t seem to stir at all.

“Paul?” Hugh asked quietly, shaking Paul’s shoulders.

“Mmmh?” Paul groaned, trying to nuzzle closer to Hugh.

“We’re here,” Hugh said. “Do you want to...I don’t know, go in?”

“Mmmh,” Paul groaned again, not responding in any other way.

Hugh frowned down at him. “If you can at least open the door, I’ll just put you in your bed.”

Paul didn’t move for a moment, and Hugh was worried for a second that he’d have to let Paul sleep in his bed again. But then Paul shifted a little, letting one hand droop over to the scanner. Once the door slid open, Paul curled inwards again, towards Hugh’s chest.

Hugh stepped carefully into the apartment, glancing around. It seemed messier than his and Geraldo’s, but cleaner than most other dorms Hugh had seen. “Which room is yours?” Hugh asked quietly, picking his way carefully across the living room.

“Left,” Paul sighed.

Hugh made his way to the proper door, watching it slide open in front of him. He stepped into the dark room, keeping a close eye on the floor for anything he could trip on. Luckily, he managed to make it to Paul’s bed without falling. He bent his knees a little to gently set Paul on the mattress, ready to go to his own dorm and fall into his own bed. His body felt a little betrayed as he straightened up again.

Hugh turned to go, but felt something tug weakly at the bottom of his shirt. When he looked down, he was surprised to see Paul gripping it. “Stay,” Paul murmured, dark eyes glinting in the low light.

Hugh hesitated. He wouldn’t sleep in Paul’s bed--not with Paul so addled on painkillers--but...he didn’t think he’d be able to make it to his dorm, either. He already felt ready to drop, and his apartment was on the other side of the complex.

Hugh turned around, a small smile on his face as he took Paul’s hand, so he wasn’t holding his shirt anymore. “I’ll be right outside,” Hugh promised in a murmur, rubbing his thumb over the smooth back of Paul’s hand.

“No,” Paul mumbled. “Here.”

“Someday,” Hugh said, leaning down a little to put Paul’s hand down. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

Paul let out an irritated huff--even in such a sleepy state, he could manage such an annoyed breath--but he didn’t make any more arguments. Hugh silently stepped out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

He didn’t bother to take off his shoes before he collapsed on the couch, knocking out almost immediately.


	4. Chapter Four

Hugh woke up slowly. He was aware of his hands first--one brushing the floor, the other on his stomach. Then he felt his feet--still restricted in shoes, hanging off the edge of the--couch? Why did he fall asleep on the couch again? He cracked open his eyes as he shifted a little, and--yep, there it was. The crick in his neck. Damn it.

Hugh then became aware of a noise. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but there was an awful aroma filling the room. Was Geraldo cooking? His stuff normally didn’t smell that bad. Was he trying a new recipe?

There was a loud clatter as whoever was in the kitchen dropped a spoon. “ _Shit_ ,” they hissed. Wait--whose voice was that?

Hugh sat up, looking over the back of the couch, towards the kitchen. There were different-sized pots everywhere, most with gunk on their outsides, and...Straal, wearing an apron that said _Kiss the Cook_ as he stirred at a pot with a blackened spoon.

 _What the fuck?_ Hugh watched Straal, at a loss for words. What was Straal doing in Hugh’s apartment? More importantly, why was his apartment a mess? Perhaps of paramount importance, when had Geraldo bought a sparkly, hot pink swea--

Oh. Hugh wasn’t in his apartment at all. The events of yesterday rushed into his head then, and he felt a fiery blush alight on his face. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh, good!” Straal said, catching sight of Hugh. “You’re awake.”

Hugh blinked at Straal. “...Yep,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Computer?” Straal asked.

“It is currently 18:34,” the computer calmly replied.

Hugh sighed, rubbing his face. He had half an hour before he had to be on the hovertrain. Why had he decided that only allowing eight hours between his shifts would be a good idea?

“Then that’s my cue to leave,” Hugh said, pushing himself up from the couch, making his way to the front door.

“What, you’re not gonna say bye to Stamets?” Straal asked. “Harsh, man.”

Hugh frowned at Straal. “He’s awake?”

Straal nodded. “What, you think I’d let him stay asleep when you’re sleeping in our fucking living room?” he asked.

Hugh snorted. “I’m sure Paul would’ve appreciated it.”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Straal said, holding his spoon to his chest. “You call him Paul!”

Hugh shook his head, deciding to not dignify that with a response. He walked over to Paul’s bedroom door. He hesitated before he knocked gently on it.

“Straal, if you come in here with another sex joke, I _will_ disable your shower for the rest of our time here,” came Paul’s immediate, rapid-fire response.

Hugh blinked, looking over at Straal, who was innocently whistling while stirring at a pot. “Uh...Paul…?” Hugh asked.

There was no response for a good twenty seconds. “...Hugh. You’re awake,” was Paul’s final, deadly-calm reply.

“Yep,” Hugh said, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. “I just wanted to say bye before I left.”

“You’re leaving,” Paul said.

It wasn’t a question, but Hugh answered anyway. “Yeah, I have a shift at the hospital pretty soon, so I have to get going.” Part of Hugh told him to go into Paul’s room, to ask him on a date, but--with Straal right there? And besides, if Paul didn’t invite him in, he didn’t want Hugh in there.

“Okay,” came Paul’s voice, a little more distant than before. “...Thank you, Culber.”

Hugh nodded, hesitating. That would be it, then. He likely wouldn’t see Paul again after he left. He tried to ignore the frown tugging at his lips. “No problem,” he said before he moved away from Paul’s door, to walk out of the apartment.

Before the door slid shut behind Hugh, Straal sang, “Twenty houuuurs!”

Hugh frowned, glancing back at the door with confusion before he set off down the hall. He didn’t have long to get ready before he had to get on the hovertrain.

He tried not to think about how much he already missed Paul.

✩✭✩

Hugh hated to admit it, but he missed being able to talk to Paul while in the hospital. He knew that it was good that Paul was no longer in there, but...still. Hugh missed him.

His shift passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was stumbling into his apartment on autopilot at 1300, his eyelids ready to crash.

Hugh knew he wouldn’t be getting any shut-eye soon, though, when he saw Geraldo sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee. As soon as Hugh stepped through the door, Geraldo said, “We need to talk.”

Hugh froze, staring at Geraldo. “Uh,” he began, “is everything okay?”

“No,” Geraldo said, looking uncharacteristically serious as he inspected his coffee. Shit, what had Hugh done? “I need to ask you something.”

“What…?” Hugh asked, shifting uneasily. He’d barely been in the apartment for the past week, what--

“What the _fuck_ ,” Geraldo began passionately, looking up at Hugh, “is going on between you and Stamets?”

Hugh blinked. _Oh._ Oh, thank goodness. A cool breeze of relief blew through him; he could’ve laughed, if the question didn’t make him feel so forlorn. He sighed before he collapsed down on the couch, next to Geraldo.

“That bad?” Geraldo asked. “Is the boyfriend situation reexistent now?”

“No,” Hugh said, rubbing his face. “In short, Paul never had a boyfriend, I’m just a dumbass.”

Geraldo snorted. “I knew that sounded fishy.” At Hugh’s sharp glance, he rushed to add, “Becauuuse he’s so obviously meant for you, obviously. Duh.”

“Nice save,” Hugh snorted.

“Thanks,” Geraldo said. “Okay, but what about the hovertrain yesterday?”

Hugh groaned, covering his face so he could hide his blush. “He was hopped up on painkillers.”

“Really?” Geraldo asked. “That’s the excuse?”

“What else could it have been?” Hugh asked, dropping his hands and looking at Geraldo.

“He _likes_ you, man!” Geraldo said, reaching out to shove Hugh’s shoulder a little.

Hugh snorted. “How do you figure?”

“You’re telling me that you think that Paul Stamets--even drugged-out-of-his-mind Paul Stamets--would fall asleep on someone’s shoulder if he didn’t like them?” Geraldo asked.

Hugh frowned. He wanted to believe Geraldo, but...he’d assumed too much about Paul’s feelings already. He had to draw a line. “Maybe,” he muttered, if only to placate Geraldo.

Geraldo sighed. “Man, you’re terrible at this,” he said. “Okay, when are you next seeing him?”

“Never.”

“You can ask him out and--wait, what?” Geraldo furrowed his brow. “What do you mean never? You two slept together!”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “We have no more reason to see one another. Paul isn’t the type to reach out for no reason, so--”

“No!” Geraldo said. “You have to see each other because you like each other, and if I have to deal with your mopey ass for another hour I’m gonna scream.”

Hugh eyed Geraldo. “Someone’s invested,” he said.

“Where’s your PADD?” Geraldo asked, looking around the living room. “Ask him out right now.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Do it,” Geraldo said, looking forcefully back at Hugh.

“I’m not asking Paul Stamets on a date over PADD, Ger,” Hugh said. He felt a headache starting to stab at one temple. “He probably wouldn’t take it seriously.”

“Then go to his apartment,” Geraldo said.

Hugh snorted. “And see his roommate?” he asked. “What a moodkiller.”

Geraldo frowned as he said, “Hey, Straal’s a hunk.”

Hugh grimaced, standing up. “I’m going to bed before you make me puke.”

“He _is_!” Geraldo insisted. “And if you don’t ask Paul out, I’m conspiring with Straal to get you two some together time.”

Hugh snorted again. “Be my guest,” he said, knowing Geraldo was bluffing.

“Watch me,” Geraldo said, already picking his own PADD off the table.

“I think I’d rather sleep,” Hugh shouted, already in his bedroom.

“Be prepared to have a date when you wake up!” Geraldo yelled from the living room.

“Noted!” Hugh called back. His door slid shut behind him. “Computer, lights at fifty percent,” he grumbled, fatigue making his shoulders slump.

Once the lights were at the desired level, Hugh slowly climbed out of his clothes. He felt gross; he hadn’t changed out of that outfit in two days. He wanted to take a shower, but he resolved to do so after he woke up.

As he drifted to sleep, Hugh tried not to let Geraldo’s vow get his hopes up.

✩✭✩

The next few days were a blur of sleep and work. That seemed to be most of Hugh’s days, though; part of him wanted to take less shifts at the hospital, but what else would he do with his time? Mope over Paul? Tempting, but no.

Hugh tried his best not to mope. He made sure he always had a grin when talking to Geraldo, and laughed at even his worst jokes. But he couldn’t ignore the claw of disappointment that rended his stomach every time he got on the hovertrain and didn’t see a head of white-gold hair, or when he heard footsteps as he was walking to his dorm just to see Geraldo or another cadet, or when even the cadets at the hospital that had gossiped about Paul had removed his name from their vocabulary entirely. Hugh was glad to hear no more rumors about him, but...it was like Paul had simply disappeared from his life, and Hugh’s heart _ached_ at that.

Hugh couldn’t voice his sorrow when he was out and about, but in bed, with nothing to distract him, he could wallow in it. He didn’t want to--he tried hard to ignore the thoughts--but they kept springing up like dandelions between the cracks of the cement he was using to hide his pain. How Paul would be working himself too hard already, and Straal wouldn’t do anything because he was just as bad probably, and Paul was likely drinking way too much coffee again, and Hugh should’ve told him about the artificial sweetener he’d put in Paul’s coffee and about how Paul could do that to his own to make it healthier because they _did_ have a physical coming up soon.

And then Freesia’s face would pop up in his head and remind Hugh of all the jerks that would target Paul in the future, and how he wanted to scream at every single one until his voice was hoarse, but also how Paul would probably find someone (because he was attractive and a genius and even though he was prickly if someone _really_ got to know him then he’d open up) and--

Hugh’s dreams didn’t provide any relief. They all felt like memories, even though Hugh knew they hadn’t happened. He and Paul walking side-by-side down a starship, smiles on both their faces. Paul taking Hugh by both hands and leading him through what looked like a forest of stars. He and Hugh standing at a sink together, in their own shared room, brushing their teeth--

And then Hugh would wake up, the dreams would fly from his mind, and he would have to start his schedule all over. He usually woke up on his own, though he’d learned to set an alarm (he refused to be late ever again). Sometimes, Geraldo was the one to wake him up--mostly because he was bored. Such was the case three days after Hugh had last seen Paul.

“Huuuuuuugh!” Geraldo shouted at the top of his lungs.

Hugh groaned as Geraldo’s voice chased him out of dreamland. Dammit. He buried his face in his pillow. Maybe if he didn’t respond--

“HUUUUUGH!” Geraldo shouted, even louder. Fuck.

“Wha?!” Hugh shouted, turning his head to the side so Geraldo could actually hear him. If he just asked for a partner to watch a movie with again--

“You have company!” Geraldo yelled.

If it was another cadet asking for help with studying, Hugh would scream. No, he wouldn’t, he’d probably end up helping them, but he’d hate himself for it.

“HUUU--!”

“I’m _up_!” Hugh shouted. How was Geraldo always so loud? Hugh groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He rubbed an eye and yawned as he stepped out into the living room.

Hugh froze when his gaze landed on Paul Stamets, standing in the front doorway, a mug between his hands. _Oh, shit._ Hugh was suddenly keenly aware he hadn’t put a shirt on--again. Fuck, he really had to stop going to the front door without a shirt.

“Um,” Hugh said, at a loss for words but knowing he should say something, “hey, Paul.” He stepped closer to the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave Geraldo a stern glance. Geraldo just gave him a “wink” before he slunk off towards his own room. Hugh hated him.

Even after Geraldo had left the vicinity, Paul hadn’t responded, his eyes wide. “Uh...Paul?” Hugh asked. Paul snapped to attention, looking up at Hugh. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, his voice a little tighter than usual. Hugh furrowed his brow in concern. Paul coughed quietly. “Yes, I’m fine,” he said, his voice back to normal. “I came to return your mug.” He thrust the ceramic cup out to Hugh.

Hugh stared at the mug for a moment. He was happy to see Paul--he couldn’t believe how much it felt like his heart was buoying up--but he was a little disappointed it’d only been for the mug. He decided to be happy Paul had come at all; he could’ve sent Straal. _Should’ve_ sent Straal, considering the state he was in. He seemed mostly put-together, but Hugh could see in the hard set of his jaw that it was only through a Herculean effort that he was there.

Hugh realized he’d been staring for longer than was polite. He jumped a little, grabbing the mug and shooting Paul a smile. “Thanks,” he said. “Do you wanna come inside? I can make something to eat.”

Paul hesitated, glancing back into Hugh’s apartment. “I...can only stay for a few minutes,” he answered, looking back at Hugh. “I have some work I need to do.”

Hugh felt relief flood through him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted Paul to say yes. He gave Paul his brightest smile, stepping to the side to let him in. “Then we can just spring for coffee,” he said. “Since it’s quick.”

Paul snorted, slowly stepping into the apartment. “With how I take it? You’d allow that under your roof?”

Hugh laughed; all of his earlier tiredness was gone, replaced by energy at having Paul in his home. “Only since I want you to stay will I allow it.” Once Paul was inside, the door slid shut, and Hugh stepped over to the coffee machine to begin quickly brewing some. “I wanted to tell you something about that, actually.”

“Is it another lecture about how unhealthy it is?” Paul asked. “I can still leave.”

“No!” Hugh said, turning around as the coffee machine started to gurgle.

Paul was leaning against the back of the couch, determination blazing in his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen table. Hugh felt a jolt of guilt--he should’ve offered to help, dammit. He’d just been so excited--but Paul seemed determined to make it on his own, so Hugh settled on keeping a close eye as he made his way over.

“Well, it _is_ unhealthy, but there’s a way to make it healthier without sacrificing any of the taste,” Hugh said.

Paul lifted a brow as he looked at Hugh. “I don’t believe you,” he said. He slid into the chair at the table with a quiet, relieved sigh.

“It’s true,” Hugh said, leaning back against the counter. “The coffee I gave you at the hospital didn’t taste any different from your regular stuff, did it?”

Paul frowned. “That had sugar in it.”

Hugh couldn’t hold back his broadening grin. “Nope.”

Paul’s brow furrowed. “It must have.”

Hugh shook his head. “Not one spoonful,” he said. The coffee machine stopped gurgling and let out a little bell sound. He turned around, stretching up to pull two mugs from the cupboard before he filled them with coffee. Once they were full, Hugh transported them over to the table. From the fridge, he grabbed his creamer, and from the pantry, he grabbed the small container full of artificial sweetener (when Paul was there last, Hugh had given him their tub of real sugar; never again).

“Try that on for size,” Hugh said as he set the artificial sweetener in front of Paul.

“...This is sugar,” Paul said as Hugh poured creamer into his own cup until it was a creamy brown.

“It’s not,” Hugh insisted as he returned the creamer to its shelf in the fridge. “Trust me.”

When Hugh turned back to Paul, he still had a doubtful expression on, but he’d already begun dumping spoonfuls of artificial sweetener into his coffee. Hugh took his own seat, curling his hands around his mug and bringing it to his lips, watching Paul carefully.

Paul glanced up to meet Hugh’s gaze. “If this kills me, it’s on your conscience.”

Hugh snorted. “Please. You know I’d never hurt you.”

Paul slowed his movements, quickly looking down at his coffee. Hugh frowned a little--had he said something wrong? But before he could ask, Paul lifted his mug to his lips.

Hugh watched Paul closely as he took his first sip. Paul put down the mug, looking up at Hugh. “You gave me sugar.”

Hugh laughed, a smile gluing itself onto his face again. “I swear I didn’t,” he said.

“Then what else could it be?” Paul challenged, looking analytically at the tub of sweetener.

“It’s just artificial sweetener,” Hugh said with a grin. “I brought some from Earth.”

“Artificial sweetener,” Paul repeated. Hugh nodded. “So it’s just man-made sugar.”

“Essentially,” Hugh said, taking a sip from his mug.

“Then...what makes it healthier than normal sugar?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Well, really it has _no_ nutritional value. You only need a small amount of sugar, though, and I’m sure you get more than enough to meet your needs from the food you eat, so...this could help.”

Paul scowled as he took another sip from the mug. “...Right,” he said, looking back down at his cup of coffee. “I hope you know I’m not throwing out all my sugar just for this.”

Even that couldn’t wipe the smile from Hugh’s face. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you prepare for the physical in a month.”

Paul rolled his eyes, sipping from his mug. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mm, sure,” Hugh said, taking another sip. “But if you’re ever in the mood for jogging….”

Paul snorted. “Unlikely.”

“I figured I’d at least offer,” Hugh said, his smile widening. He’d... _really_ missed Paul, and he had every intention of basking in his company for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, they both finished their cups of coffee shortly after that. Hugh put down his empty mug regretfully, his smile finally fading from his face. “You...probably want to get going, don’t you? For your work,” he said reluctantly.

Paul blinked, before he slowly nodded. “That would probably be best,” he answered in kind.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to take one of the mugs for the road?” Hugh asked, forcing a teasing grin as he stood. “My treat.”

Paul huffed, sounding amused. Hugh’s grin grew. “If you’re not careful, I’ll steal all your mugs.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Hugh said as he gathered their cups. “You’d have more excuses to visit, and I’d have more excuses to give you health tips.” He set the mugs in the sink, filling them each with water.

“I’ll pass on the health tips,” Paul said. When Hugh turned around, Paul was already standing.

“Aw, those are my best feature, though,” Hugh said. “Right in front of my obscure music taste.”

Paul snorted, starting to make his way towards the front door. He seemed to be having an easier time of it than before. “You have plenty more virtues than those.”

Hugh blinked, trying to ignore the heat rushing to his cheeks. He was tempted to ask what Paul thought those virtues were, but he didn’t want to seem like he was fishing for another compliment. Instead, he asked, “Do you want any help?”

Paul shook his head. “I can manage,” he said, tilting his chin up pridefully.

Hugh nodded, though he slowly made his way to walk next to Paul. “Alright,” he said.

Hugh caught Paul side-eying him. “No protest?” Paul asked. “I’m impressed.”

“If you want to walk for yourself, I won’t take that freedom away from you,” Hugh said. “Unless you fall, of course, in which case I’d be sure to catch you.”

Paul looked away, a pink tint crossing his cheeks. “You’re always so honest,” he muttered.

“Would you rather I not be?” Hugh asked, glancing at Paul. With every step closer to the door, Hugh felt a growing sense of unease. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Paul again, but once they reached that door, he would have to.

“No,” Paul answered. “It’s...nice.”

Hugh gave Paul a small smile as they stepped in front of the door, which slid open. Hugh’s smile disappeared as Paul stepped out into the hallway.

“Then...this is it?” Hugh asked.

Paul hesitated before he gave a jerking nod. “I suppose so.”

Hugh nodded as well. “Then...I’ll see you, Paul.” He wanted to say something else--but what would he say? That felt inadequate by itself, but he had nothing else to say.

“Culber,” Paul said with a stiff nod, before he turned and slowly walked down the hall. Hugh hesitated before he stuck his head out the door, watching Paul walk away.

Hugh jumped when he heard Geraldo mumble behind him, “And here we see Hugh ‘too lovestruck to function’ Culber, being a dumbass, as usual.” Before Hugh could look back at him, Geraldo pushed him out into the hallway.

“Hey!” Hugh yelped, whirling around to face Geraldo.

“Ask him out, you idiot!” Geraldo said. “Now’s your chance!”

Hugh hesitated, snapping his gaze to Paul’s retreating back. Geraldo had a point--when would they see each other again? And based on how the last three days had been going, Hugh wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“Paul!” Hugh shouted just before Paul turned the corner. Hugh jogged up to him as Paul stopped, looking at Hugh with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t have any of your mugs,” Paul said once Hugh was close enough.

Hugh shook his head, letting the energy coursing through him push out what he wanted to say in a tidal wave of words. “Go on a date with me.”

Paul froze, staring at Hugh. He was silent for a few moments before he said flatly, “What.”

“I--I mean,” Hugh faltered, “you don’t _have_ to. I was just asking. I mean, I meant it as a question.” He shifted uneasily, scratching the back of his head as he looked away. “I just...don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

As Hugh spoke, the blush on Paul’s face grew darker and darker. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and Hugh was about to tell him to think it over before Paul finally forced out, “Yes.” He let out a small breath. “Yes, I will.”

Hugh blinked. Was--was that a yes? Holy shit. Holy _shit_. He couldn’t keep the biggest grin of his life off his face. “Great!” he almost shouted, before he quickly lowered his volume. “Sorry, I--thank you. I’ll...message you the details?” He laughed nervously. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Paul had a smile curving the corner of his mouth. “Well, you did,” he said. “I’ll see you, then...Hugh.”

Hugh might’ve combusted on the spot. He nodded, and couldn’t help but feel like a child with how vigorously he did so. “Yeah!” he said. “Definitely. See you later, Paul.”

Paul continued smiling at Hugh for a moment--jeez, Hugh could’ve melted under that dark sapphire gaze--before he turned around and walked back down the hall.

As Hugh stepped back to his dorm, he felt like he could take on the world.

✩✭✩

Hugh felt far too excited as he tried to think of a date. He didn’t know what Paul liked to do, outside of researching and trying to avoid eating, so it was a little difficult. Hiking--anything physical, really--was out of the question. The theatre or opera would’ve been cool, but Hugh didn’t want to try a music-y date until he knew if Paul actually liked music (as he’d claimed he did). He thought about taking Paul to the cafe they’d met at, but...that didn’t sound quite right. It was a good backup plan, at the very least.

When Geraldo told Hugh about the end-of-the-internship-term party that Ulua was throwing, Hugh knew immediately he didn’t want to go. But it did give him an idea for something that he could do with Paul. He just needed a place to do it; while exploring the dorms one day, Hugh found the perfect place-- a grassy hill that the top floor of the dorm building let out on. It had a spectacular view of the city--and the sunset probably, if they went early enough.

Finally, though, Hugh had a time and a place for their date; he sent Paul a message that he’d pick him up a few days before the internship period ended (Hugh had his final test the following day, but he wasn’t too worried), around 1900. He made sure _not_ to tell Paul what they were doing. Hugh wanted to surprise him, and gauging his reaction to a picnic would be easier if Hugh could see his face (probably--he had a mask of stone that was damn near impossible to crack).

Almost too soon, though, Hugh was standing in front of Paul’s apartment door, nervously fixing his sleeves. He’d had to enlist Geraldo for help, as Hugh had been too nervous to pick an outfit for himself. He was wearing jeans (that Geraldo assured him made his legs look like they went on for days), a dark green sweater (that happened to be his favorite), and a walnut-brown coat.

He fiddled with one of his buttons for a moment before he shook his head, taking a deep breath. He could do it. He stepped forward, forcing a finger over to press the doorbell. Easy. He let out a sigh of relief.

The door slid open a few moments after Hugh had pressed the button. Luckily, it was Paul; he was in a blue sweater, a nervous furrow between his brows as he watched Hugh (with those oceanic eyes that he could get lost in). “Hi,” Paul said.

“Hey,” Hugh said softly, unable to keep the giddy grin buoying up to his face. “You look...amazing.”

A red tint came over Paul’s cheeks as he shuffled a little. “Thanks,” he said, giving Hugh a small smile. “But you stole my compliment for you.”

Hugh chuckled quietly. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll let you speak first next time.”

“Thank you,” Paul said as he stepped out from the doorway, the door sliding shut behind him. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

Hugh shook his head, starting to amble leisurely down the hall. “Nope.”

Paul huffed, rolling his eyes. “If I end up hating it--”

“You won’t,” Hugh couldn’t stop himself from intervening. He looked away from Paul as he continued, “At least, I don’t think you will.” He glanced at Paul out of the corner of his eye. “How’s your walking ability?”

A frown crossed Paul’s face. “Please don’t make me go hiking.”

Hugh laughed. “I won’t!” he said. “If it gets too hard, just let me know and I can carry you. If you want, I mean.”

Paul nodded, his lips pursed a little. As they turned a corner, he said, “You seem to like carrying people about.”

“What makes you figure?” Hugh asked.

“You carried me from the hovertrain station when you were escorting me home from the hospital,” Paul said, an eyebrow lifting minutely. “And you keep offering to do it more.”

Hugh gave Paul a broad grin. “Well, I don’t want to miss out on having my arms wrapped around a handsome man, is all. Can you blame me?”

Paul let out a huff at that, his cheeks growing cherry-red. When Paul rolled his eyes, Hugh had to smother his laugh of delight, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He felt childlike, almost, with how giddy it was. He was on a _date_ with Paul Stamets. He couldn’t believe it. Well, he could, but--he hadn’t thought it’d ever happen. He kept glancing down at Paul’s hand, thin and pale. Part of him was tempted to hold it, but he was afraid that might’ve made Paul freak out a little. _Baby steps, Culber. Baby steps._

“How’s your research coming along?” Hugh asked, deciding to take mercy on Paul as they stopped in front of the elevators.

Paul seemed grateful, at least, for the distraction. He let out a small sigh. “Straal and I have been busy working on gene-splicing our latest specimens into producing a stronger group of spores. We’re obviously able to detect that the mycelium network exists, however, we are unable to access it due to the genetic weaknesses present in our current samples.”

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside as Paul continued, gesturing with his hands. “By altering the current DNA sequences, we will soon be able to create specimens that will withstand the high intensity electrical pulses required for us to view into the network. Once we find an appropriate specimen and strengthen its DNA in a satisfactory way, we can work to create a full-sized cultivation bay of them and submit the sample to Starfleet itself, better strengthening a cause to give us our own lab.” He paused for a moment, looking over towards the ground as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “But, I’m sure that’s not very interesting,” he muttered.

Hugh frowned. “No, that’s great!” he enthused, trying to drum up Paul’s energy again, too. “Your own lab will allow you to work out a way to use the network, won’t it? You could revolutionize space travel as we know it. That’s groundbreaking, Paul--what wouldn’t be interesting about that?”

Paul snorted, rolling his eyes. “Who cares about what the ‘weird mushroom guy’ has to say?”

Hugh frowned further. “You’re not just a ‘weird mushroom guy,’” he said. “And I care. And the other cadets will care, too--when they’re using your and Straal’s technology to get around the cosmos.”

“Please, as if that will happen,” Paul scoffed. “Starfleet barely believes in us as it is. I’m surprised they’ve even given us enough funding to start. They’re far too worried about--and I quote them, not myself--more ‘practical sciences.’” Paul spat out the last words, clearly angry.

“They’ll figure out your value soon enough,” Hugh said. “They’d be foolish not to.” He thought about it, then said, “I mean the value of your research. Obviously. Not that you’re not--oh, look, this is our floor.” The elevator doors slid open, revealing the gleaming hallway of the top floor.

“Are you just taking me on a tour of the dorms?” Paul asked. “I’m afraid I already went through that during initiation, Hugh.”

Hugh snorted, a smile teasing his lips. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I have a plan. I promise.”

“I won’t believe you unless you tell me what it is,” Paul threatened, though his voice didn’t have any bite.

“That’s fine,” Hugh said. “As long as you keep following me, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not one to blindly follow,” Paul said, slowing his stride. “I may just go back and--”

“Noo!” Hugh laughed. “You can’t. You’re already all the way up here.”

“What’s stopping me?”

Hugh pursed his lips in thought. “I’ll give you a hint.”

Paul lifted a brow. “I’m listening.”

Oh, shit, Hugh didn’t have any hints. Okay, what did he have planned? A picnic, with music and candles. Candles had fire--and so near a Starfleet base….

“It’s against protocol,” Hugh said. “Starfleet would hate it if they found out.”

Paul’s lips twitched in a grin. “I wasn’t aware you were going rogue.”

Hugh gave Paul a wink. “I have _plenty_ of surprises up my sleeve,” he said with a grin. “Speaking of.” He stopped in front of a pair of double-doors made out of glass  complete with silver metallic handles. Hugh pulled open one door, ushering Paul through. “After you, my dear.”

Paul glanced around, even as he stepped through the doors. Hugh wasn’t worried; the hallway was deserted, as everyone was likely getting ready for Ulua’s party. He and Paul would have solitude.

The doors opened on a small platform, set into the near-top of the hill. There was a small half-wall around its circumference, whose top was level with the beginning of the burgundy-colored grass. There were several tables and benches around the platform itself.

“I hate to tell you, but a balcony isn’t against Starfleet protocol,” Paul said, looking back at Hugh.

“We’re not there yet,” Hugh said with a smile as he walked over to the half-wall. He stepped up on top of it, before turning around and wordlessly offering Paul a hand.

Paul looked at Hugh’s hand warily for a moment before sliding his own into it. It was smooth, though a little sweaty--probably from nerves. Hugh carefully pulled Paul up beside him with a grin. He gave Paul a moment to make sure he was steady, though he didn’t make a move to unjoin their hands.

“You said we wouldn’t be hiking,” Paul grumbled as he slipped his hand out of Hugh’s. Hugh had expected that reaction, so he wasn’t too put off.

“Sorry,” Hugh said, gesturing towards the crest of the hill as he started walking. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

Paul didn’t answer as they made their way up the hill. Hugh made sure to keep a close eye on him, to ensure they wouldn’t have to prematurely end their date. Once Hugh reached the top of the hill, he couldn’t keep the big, proud smile off his face.

As he waited for Paul to catch up, Hugh surveyed his handiwork; there was a small platform on the side of the hill, not visible to the side on the dorms. A large, plush blanket (that Hugh had brought from Earth, thanks--none of that itchy synthesized material) was spread out. Candles in mason jars twinkled merrily around the platform, all carefully positioned to fill the area with a warm glow. There was a small speaker off to the side, and a picnic basket next to the speaker.

When Paul finally reached the top, Hugh looked at him instead. “Surprise,” he said.

Paul’s eyes were wide as they drank in the sight. He stared at the setting for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, before his eyes turned to Hugh--and back to the picnic area. He finally pulled himself together, saying, “I do hope you’re not planning on playing Kasseelian opera.”

Hugh had to fight against the deep chuckle he wanted to give. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice, though, as he said, “Actually, I was planning on giving you a live performance.”

Hugh _did_ laugh at the scowl and glare Paul shot him. “I’m just kidding, Paul,” he said. “It’s a Kasseelian-free playlist, I promise, with only the best songs from the late twentieth century.”

“I’m sure that’s a short playlist, then,” Paul said.

“You’d be surprised,” Hugh said. “Just let me know which songs you don’t like, and I can take them out.”

Paul lofted a brow. “Oh, and you wouldn’t be offended?”

“Not a bit,” Hugh said with a nod. He then motioned down to the picnic. “Would you like to actually get to the main event?” He paused, then grimaced. “Wait, that sounded terrible, I--”

“I’d love to,” Paul interrupted, and Hugh had to swallow his relieved sigh. As Paul made his way down the hill, Hugh followed him. “By the way, Hugh,” he continued, “this is...wonderful.” He glanced back at Hugh for a second as he slowly sat on the blanket. “Thank you.”

Hugh’s smile was glued onto his face, he was sure. “Of course!” he said. “It’s my pleasure,” he said as he sat between Paul and the picnic basket. “I figured we could have a party of our own, so our respective roommates didn’t bother us about Ulua’s.”

Paul scoffed. “There is no way Straal could ever convince me to go to another party.” His eyes moved to the sky, looking up at the stars.

Hugh tried not to feel cheesy as he admired Paul’s profile, the warm light from the candles flickering across his face. “I don’t know,” Hugh said, “we got to reunite at the last one.”

“I don’t think I’d count that as another meeting,” Paul said, meeting Hugh’s gaze for a moment, “considering I was far drunker than I’d ever care to admit.”

“Then how about the morning after?” Hugh asked. “Before Geraldo rushed in--sorry about that, by the way, his filter is broken.”

“That was horrid,” Paul said.

Hugh frowned. “Wait--you’re talking about Ger, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Paul replied, confusion evident in his voice. “Public ridicule isn’t high on the list of things I like to subject myself to.”

Hugh nodded. He was glad, at the very least, that Paul didn’t think his omelette had been horrid. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” Hugh said as he opened his basket.

He didn’t mention how long he’d debated over what to bring. Part of him had wanted to bring an actual dinner, but he knew that Paul wouldn’t have enjoyed it very much. He’d had Geraldo’s help, too, until he’d finally decided on something relatively simple.

Hugh pulled out a soft pink cheesecake sitting on a plate, setting it carefully onto the blanket. “I wasn’t sure what sort of dessert was your favorite,” Hugh said, glancing self-consciously at Paul, “but I hope you like cheesecake.” He pulled another plate out of the basket and handed it to Paul.

Paul took the plate, though he looked wary as he eyed the cheesecake. “We’ll see.”

Hugh felt a small amount of trepidation as he sliced into the cheesecake. “It’s handmade,” he said as a way to calm himself down. “With a little help,” he added, remembering Geraldo ordering him around the kitchen as if they worked in a five-star restaurant. He slid the slice of cheesecake onto Paul’s plate, resisting the urge to grimace as the corner flipped over a little. “I hope it lives up to the expectation.”

Hugh tried not to stare at Paul as he picked up a fork, but he couldn’t resist. Paul lifted a piece of the cheesecake onto his fork, inspecting it closely before he wrapped his lips around it. His eyes immediately widened, and Hugh felt his heart clench. After he swallowed, Paul said, “This is delicious.”

Hugh couldn’t fight the big grin. “Really?” he asked, leaning forward a little. “I’ve never been much of a baker. I was afraid something would go wrong.”

Paul shook his head, a small smile that made Hugh’s heart melt on his face. “It’s perfect,” Paul said before he took another bite of the cheesecake. He returned his gaze to the starry sky, and Hugh had to resist the urge to watch him again as he turned down to take his own slice of cheesecake.

“What made you want to become a doctor, Hugh?” Paul asked after a moment. “And why for Starfleet?”

Hugh took a moment to respond, sliding his slice onto its own plate as he considered. “Well…” he said. “My family isn’t exactly poor, but we still didn’t have the opportunity to make a lot of choices.” Hugh drew the tines of his fork through the creamy pinkness of his slice of cheesecake. “We really had just enough to get by most times. I wanted to make the world a better place, make it some place where more people can make choices, where people don’t have to decide between going to the hospital or paying the bills, you know?” He glanced at Paul to ensure he was still listening. “Starfleet--well, I never went offworld much. It wasn’t an option for us. But if I can travel the cosmos and live by a creed of helping whoever I can--it just sounds perfect, you know?” Hugh finished with a faint tint of pink across his cheeks, though he couldn’t keep from meeting Paul’s gaze.

Paul maintained eye contact wordlessly. His eyes were shining with--something. Hugh wasn’t sure if it was the stars, or admiration, or hope. Hugh was struck with the urge to close the gap between them, but he knew he had to fight against it. To keep it from taking over, he asked, “What about you, Paul?”

Paul looked down, the sparkle in his eyes gone. Hugh wished he could’ve done something to keep it there. “Oh, well,” Paul said, “I’ve always had a fascination with the sciences, but nothing really stood out to me until I learnt more about Mycena chlorophos from a professor at the college I was attending. From then on, the idea of mycelium continued to fascinate me. When I figured that it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, study it, see how it could connect into the greater cosmos, I knew that Starfleet was the only place that had the resources that could fund me.” He didn’t meet Hugh’s gaze as he continued to fiddle with his sweater. “There wasn’t really another choice.”

Hugh nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. It did--if Paul had had tutors, he’d probably come from a well-off family, and rich people rarely went into Starfleet. It was dangerous, after all. “And we both know Starfleet is going to give you the money you need the second you graduate,” he added.

Paul glanced up at Hugh with a small smile that didn’t look very optimistic. “That’s all I can hope for, I suppose.”

“Hope for?” Hugh repeated, incredulous. “I _know_ it’ll happen.” He gave Paul a smile. “C’mon, what’s not to love about space mushroom networks?”

Paul snorted as he took a bite from his cheesecake. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Ask the board of directors.”

Hugh continued to try and boost Paul’s confidence about his project while they worked away at the cheesecake. When all that was left was crumbs, Hugh moved the plate to the side and turned on the stereo--quietly, of course, the singing barely more than a mumble.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hugh began.

“As long as you don’t start humming again, I won’t,” Paul said, laying back.

Hugh laughed, laying back as well. “And there go my plans to serenade you. Next time, then.”

Paul didn’t respond to that. Hugh continued staring up at the sky, his arms crossed under his head as he lost himself in stars. He’d be among them, soon. Not on the return shuttle to Earth, though--on a starship. He imagined the stars would look a lot different when he was living amongst them. There were no familiar constellations in the sky above Alpha Centauri.

“It’s amazing, you know,” he said softly. “I’ve looked up at the sky above Earth so many times, imagining what it would be like to finally travel through the stars. Everything looks so similar, but different, when I look up now.”

“The positions of the planets in federation space cause the night sky to look vastly different, especially dependent upon the pollution and visibility of our greater galaxy.” Paul lifted a hand, pointing far to the left. “Over there lies our original solar system. You can see the sun, slightly brighter than the stars around it.”

Hugh furrowed his brow. There were lots of stars with varying intensity, and he couldn’t decide which was home. “Where?”

“Next to the Uman constellation,” Paul said as he took his hand back. “Do you see it?”

“Where--” Hugh began, but stopped once he spotted the constellation in question. “Oh!” And there was the star Paul was talking about, shining merrily right next to the leftmost tip of the Uman. “That’s amazing!” Hugh enthused. “It looks so far away from here.” He knew how stars worked, of course, but...it was still difficult to wrap his head around just how _far_ he was from home, from family.

“Well, it _is_ 4.367 lightyears away, so I would hope it’d be rather small,” Paul said.

“Okay, Mister Astromycologist,” Hugh said as he rolled his eyes, looking over at Paul with a teasing grin. “Not all of us have space distances to the third decimal just in our heads.” Hugh was a little blown away by that--but then again, Paul was usually impressive.

Paul huffed. “It’s valuable information to know!” he defended. “I memorized it before I was ten.”

“Before you were ten?” Hugh repeated, lifting a brow. That _was_ impressive.

“I started learning astronomy from a young age,” Paul explained. “My parents wanted me to understand where we were going from a young age.”

“That’s...impressive,” Hugh said, at a loss for something else to say. When _he_ was young, he’d been too lost in books to even think about the stars.

Paul looked away, up at the sky again. “It was required,” he muttered. “It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”

Hugh frowned, looking up at the sky as well. He didn’t want to remind Paul about things he couldn’t change. To switch the subject, he asked, “Hey, Paul. If you could travel anywhere in the universe, where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” Paul said. “Somewhere with a mild enough climate that my mushrooms could grow, and the star’s rays wouldn’t burn my skin.”

Hugh let out a huff of a laugh. “That’s not unexpected.”

“What about you?” Paul asked.

Hugh pursed his lips, considering. There were thousands of cosmos that they had yet to explore, but--there was the idea of one that’d always stuck with him, since he’d read about it a few years prior.

“There’s a solar system that’s full of bioluminescence,” Hugh said, “with planets visible from ten lightyears away. I’d like to see it one day.”

“I suppose that would be interesting,” Paul mumbled. “I wonder what types of spores would grow there.”

Paul tightly crossed his arms over his chest, and it was then that Hugh realized it was actually pretty chilly. With his jacket, he was fine, but--it seemed that Paul wasn’t.

“You know,” Hugh said, “it’s not like the weather can give you a cold, but if you’re feeling chilly, I can warm you up.”

Before Hugh could consider how that could’ve been misinterpreted, Paul asked, “What?” Their gazes met.

Hugh shifted a little, until one of his arms was lying between him and Paul in a silent offer. “I’ve been told I have very warm hugs,” he said as justification. He hastily added, “But only if you want to, of course.”

Paul had a thoughtful frown on his face. He was silent for a few moments, and Hugh was sure he was going to say no before he scooted closer, gingerly setting his head on Hugh’s shoulder. “You _are_ relatively warm,” he grudgingly grumbled.

Hugh couldn’t fight his grin. Deciding that Paul wouldn’t get enough warmth like that, Hugh curled his arm around Paul’s shoulders, pulling him against his side. “Glad I could help,” he said, not caring that his smile was clear in his voice.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the only sounds the soft crooning of a woman singing over the speaker. When he wanted to keep the conversation going, Hugh asked, “Are you excited to finish the internships here? I felt like two months would have been such a short amount of time, but I feel like I’ve gained a lot of experience from it.”

“Mm,” Paul hummed in thought. “Leaving will be a disappointment for Straal and I,” he said, “as our research has only just begun, and the Academy hasn’t approved of us continuing our project back on Earth.” Hugh frowned at that, but Paul kept going. “We’re hoping to use the data we’ve gathered as well as Eburrack’s approval to push a second request, but,” he sighed, “due to recent events, they might claim we don’t have enough experience with the machinery.”

“Starfleet will recognize your potential sometime,” Hugh said immediately. “They’re idiots for not knowing it yet.” He didn’t often speak ill of Starfleet, but if they didn’t give Paul his funding--well, what was their mission, then?

“Yes,” Paul agreed with a nod, “they certainly are.” He was silent for a moment before he asked, “But...what about you?” Before Hugh could answer, Paul amended, “Well, I mean, more about...you. Tell me about yourself.”

Hugh was touched that Paul had thought to ask--but rather than scramble for some facts about himself off the top of his head, he suggested, a grin crawling across his face, “Well, how about a game instead?”

“I’m horrible at games,” Paul said immediately.

Hugh laughed. He wanted to bottle up that brutal honesty and take it home. “This one is fun, I promise,” he said as he looked over at Paul. “It’s called two lies and a truth. You tell me three things about yourself, and I guess which is the truth.”

A doubtful frown furrowed Paul’s lips, but he nodded slowly. “Fine,” he said. “You go first.”

Hugh smiled, glad that Paul was playing along. He hummed a little, looking up at the sky. “Let’s see,” he murmured. “I...like sunsets more than sunrises, my favorite color is blue, and I once ran a cat shelter for a month.” He looked back at Paul, his grin widening.

Paul had a scowl on his face. “Some of those are incredibly vague.”

“That’s the fun part!” Hugh said, squeezing his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “You have to figure it out!”

Paul huffed, clearly displeased. “Well,” he said, “blue is the most common favorite color, so I’ll go with that.”

“Nooope,” Hugh said brightly. That one always managed to fool others. “The cat shelter was the truth.”

Paul blinked at Hugh, his eyes widening. “You ran a cat shelter for a month?”

“Yeah,” Hugh laughed. “There were a lot of stray cats in our neighborhood, so I started up an impromptu shelter in our backyard. We had around fifteen cats there.”

“Fifteen cats in your backyard?” Paul asked, shock still evident in his voice. “That’s insanity.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hugh said, smile still teasing his lips. “It was fun, actually. I only stopped because my mom said we couldn’t keep getting food for all of them.” His smile dimmed a little at remembering how distraught he’d been after that piece of news. “They still hung out in our backyard for a while, though.” He shook his head clear of the memories, giving Paul a neutral grin. “It’s your turn now, though, Paul. What are your statements?”

“I…” Paul started, voice quickly dying off. He was silent for a long moment, staring unseeingly at Hugh before he started again. “...have only ever had one pet, I have two PhDs, and my parents send me a weekly email updating me on the status of their stock purchases.”

“If mine are too vague, yours are super specific,” Hugh said with a teasing smile.

Paul shrugged a shoulder. “You learn more that way, don’t you?”

Hugh pursed his lips, considering his options. “Well,” he said, “I find it hard to believe you’d have _two_ PhDs at this age, so I’m going to go wiiiiiith...the pet one.”

Paul huffed, and Hugh felt his grin tug wider. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “I don’t have two PhDs. Only one.”

“Wait, really?” Hugh asked, looking back at Paul with a raised eyebrow. “You have a PhD?” How old was Paul?

“Yes, of course,” Paul said nonchalantly. “I got it soon after my bachelor’s. I had gotten it in biochemistry before working on my biomechanical engineering masters, but that was when I learned about astromycology, and I realized only Starfleet had the funding I needed. Then I moved to the academy here.”

Hugh didn’t know what to say as he watched Paul with wide eyes. What _could_ he say? Paul seemed to be a veritable genius. But he couldn’t be much older than Hugh, could he? They must’ve been the same age, so then when did Paul graduate?

Oh, shit, Hugh hadn’t responded. “Wow,” he forced out quickly. “That’s...amazing. I couldn’t even imagine. When did you graduate high school?”

Paul looked nervous, fiddling with his sleeve. “About...14?” he answered. Before Hugh could respond, he added, “It’s not that impressive. Aren’t you at the top of your class as well?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, sure, but I--”

“I could never complete the medical track, let alone come out on top,” Paul continued quickly. “The marks you have are impeccable, and the hours you’re put in are inhuman.”

Hugh was going to respond to Paul’s statements, but a thought occurred to him. How did Paul know all that? “Did you look me up in the Starfleet database?” Hugh asked, smothering a laugh. He was touched that Paul had been that interested.

“Well,” Paul said, defensive, “I--I was curious, and once I knew you were a cadet, I thought it would be easy to learn more about you, and--”

“It’s cute,” Hugh cut in, unable to hold back as he laughed. He squeezed Paul’s shoulder a little as he looked up at the sky. Deciding to give Paul some mercy, he said, “It’s my turn now, so let me see….” He pursed his lips in thought. “I was once dared to eat a pound of lemons--and did it; the only time I’ve ever been swimming in the ocean I nearly drowned; and my parents have a library of physical, paper books.”

“The library,” Paul said immediately, and Hugh almost laughed again; it was too easy to lead Paul astray. Before he could set the record straight, though, Paul continued, “You seem like quite a fan of real books. You were reading _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ in the cafe.”

Hugh lifted an eyebrow, looking at Paul. “You were paying attention to the book I was reading?” he asked, trying to smother the heat in his chest.

“It’s not as if people read books these days,” Paul said. “I was intrigued by why you bothered to.”

“You have to admit, there’s something uniquely satisfying about holding the book in your hands, isn’t there?” Hugh asked.

“I’ve never bothered with it, so I wouldn’t know,” Paul said. “Completely unnecessary.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to fix that, then,” Hugh said, already trying to think of books that Paul might like. Science-based, maybe? But Paul was already so smart, he’d likely poke holes in any plots--

Paul scoffed. “Unneeded.” Hugh was going to insist that it would still be fun, but before he could say anything, Paul’s PADD started buzzing.

Paul let out a huff of air before he sat up, reaching into his bag to pull the PADD out. Hugh sat up on his elbows a little, catching sight of Straal’s face before Paul answered the call. Paul all but snapped, “Is there a reason you felt the need--”

“It’s working, Paul, it’s working!” Straal’s tinny voice exclaimed, his face on the screen grinning massively. “The synthesization! The cultivation bay is _full_ of our mushrooms! They’ve sprouted in less than two hours!”

“Less than two hours?” Paul asked, already on his feet. “I’ll be at the lab in half an hour.” He abruptly ended the call, shoving his PADD back into his bag. Alright, sure, that sounded like great news, but Paul was already turning around and--

“Paul!” Hugh called, sitting up fully.

Paul froze, looking back at Hugh with a furrow in his brow. Hugh already knew that Paul was leaving with or without his permission--he figured he might as well make it easy. “I--”

Hugh shook his head, forcing a smile. “I’ll call you,” he said. Paul’s research was important, especially so close to the end of the internships.

Paul nodded. “Right,” he said with another nod, “yes--sorry, goodbye.” He quickly walked back over the hill. Hugh continued watching after him, hoping that he’d come back until he heard the doors clang quietly shut.

Hugh sighed, facing the city again. He turned off the stereo, a frown tugging his lips as he watched the lights in the distance. He should’ve expected something like that to happen. But at least Paul had said yes in the first place--maybe it’d just been a bad date? Hugh knew he shouldn’t have brought the stereo.

Hugh sighed again before he pushed himself to his feet. He figured he might as well clean up the area, and he _did_ have an exam in the morning it wouldn’t hurt to study for. He’d just have to try harder to keep Paul’s attention when they were back on Earth.

 


	5. Chapter Five

The next week or so was a flurry of action for Hugh. Between the practical exam (which took about two hours to complete), the written exam (which took an hour and a half), packing to return home, and his regular shifts, Hugh barely had any time to himself. As an unfortunate result, he wasn’t able to see Paul much.

He refused to let that mean they couldn’t talk, though. Two days after their date, Hugh was about to fall into bed when he grabbed his PADD and sent a “quick” message: _I’m beginning to understand why you’re addicted to coffee._ In reality, it took his fingers, laden with exhaustion, about five minutes to type the message without any mistakes.

Paul’s reply was far quicker than Hugh had expected. _I wouldn’t say I’m addicted._

Hugh took a few extra minutes to respond, the light from his PADD blindingly bright in his pitch-black room. _I’d definitely disagree. Anyone who takes in that much sugar has an addiction to it._

After that, Hugh fell asleep, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. Which was just as well, as Paul didn’t respond until midnight, when Hugh was leaning boredly against the front desk, lazily scrolling through articles on his PADD. When the message notification popped up on the screen, Hugh quickly swiped over to the message screen, suddenly wide awake.

_Then I would be addicted to the sugar, not the coffee._

Hugh snorted, quickly typing a response. _Both are addictive, you’re addicted to both._

Paul’s answer was quick. _Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s midnight._

Hugh smiled, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. Aww, Paul was concerned. _I work the night shift. Shouldn’t YOU be asleep?_

Paul didn’t respond. Hugh was ready to chalk it up to him falling asleep until he finally did reply. _I work the night shift._

Hugh snorted before typing another response. They continued in that fashion for the following few days, replying to each other’s message whenever they had a spare second. Hugh was often distressed at how late (or early) Paul was awake, but he couldn’t say anything without being a hypocrite. Paul asked Hugh how his exams went (and Hugh tried to ignore the blush because _wow Paul actually cared_ ), and Hugh asked after Paul’s wellbeing (which was constantly worrisome).

 _When was the last time you slept?_ Hugh sent after Paul responded one morning at 03:23.

 _I’ll sleep when I’m back on Earth,_ was Paul’s near-instantaneous response.

 _Have you not slept?_ Hugh typed, a frown on his face. _It’s been 4 days._

_That’s not that long._

Hugh rolled his eyes, considering calling Paul. He typed his response instead, though: _Get some sleep, Paul. Please._

Paul didn’t respond. Hugh knew better than to assume that meant that he was going to sleep. He sighed and let it be for the moment; he could do something after his shift was over.

At the end of his shift around 12:00, Hugh had a basic idea in his head. Once at the dorms, he made his way to Paul’s apartment instead, trying to shake off his exhaustion. Maybe he should’ve sprung for a cup of coffee, he thought as he came to Paul’s door. He took a deep breath before he knocked on it, glancing down the hall. It was around noon, but there were no cadets walking around--all too busy packing, probably.

Hugh jumped a little when he heard a muffled _fuck!_ from behind the door. Uh-oh. There was silence for a moment, then another stream of curses just before the door opened. “What do you want?!” the person--Paul--snapped, a deep scowl on his face as he held a rag to his arm, his hair sticking up everywhere.

Hugh lifted a brow. “Hello to you too,” he said, glancing down at Paul’s arm. Had he hurt himself?

Paul blinked a few times, his scowl disappearing--though his brow remained furrowed. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping back as a silent invitation inside.

Hugh stepped inside, glancing around the apartment. “I’ve finished my packing, and I figured it’d be best to help you finish yours so you could actually get some sleep,” he answered.

The apartment was cleaner than it’d been during Hugh’s previous visit; the only clutter was a few half-full boxes. Paul made his way to the kitchenette, peeling the rag back to inspect his arm. Hugh caught a glimpse of angry red skin before he made his own way over. Paul dropped the rag in the sink before he grabbed a mug, half-full of coffee.

Paul tipped the mug up to his mouth, but Hugh gently pulled it out of his hands. “You need to sleep, Paul,” he said, forcing a stern expression. “You’re bordering on--what, 90-ish hours without sleep?”

Paul scowled. He moved to take the cup back, but Hugh dumped the coffee down the sink. “I’m fine,” Paul snapped instead, glaring at Hugh. “I don’t need your advice on the matter.”

“I can’t have you dying of sleep deprivation before I even get to go on a second date with you,” Hugh said. “Or--at least finish a date. I’ll finish packing for you. You should sleep.”

Paul threw his hands up. “I have a job I need to finish!” he said. “I can’t just go to sleep!”

Oh, right--Hugh caught a glimpse of the red skin on Paul’s arm again. He pulled his tricoder out of his back pocket. “Is your arm alright? Let me fix that up for you.” He held a hand out, and Paul complied, showing him the injury.

“You’re nearly finished packing, and you’re living off of sugar-infused coffee. You’re allowed to sleep,” Hugh continued as he gently took Paul’s wrist, running the machine over the length of the burn. How hot did Paul take his coffee?

“I don’t _need_ sleep,” Paul argued.

“Yes, you do,” Hugh said. “I came here to give you some help, okay?” Once Paul’s skin was back to its normal hue, Hugh pulled his hand and the tricoder back, meeting Paul’s gaze. “You can toss me out if you’d like, but I’m _worried_ for you,” he stressed.

Paul’s scowl deepened, though he didn’t say anything for a few moments. He continued staring at Hugh, and Hugh stared back; he wouldn’t be scared into letting Paul work himself to death. Paul sighed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You win. Straal’s going to be pissed if I’m asleep and everything isn’t done.”

“I’ll tell him to sleep too,” Hugh said, grateful that Paul, at the very least, was heading to bed. “Now go. There’s not a lot left--”

“Which means I can easily finish it before--”

“Which means _I_ have no issue helping out, and you can sleep earlier,” Hugh said sternly, staring down Paul.

Paul rolled his eyes, though he turned on his heel and made his way to his room. “Annoying medical track cadets,” he grumbled on his way, “thinking they know everything. _I’m_ the one with the Ph.D.”

Hugh was tempted to inform Paul that he could still hear him, but he didn’t want to prolong their discussion. Or, rather, he didn’t want to keep Paul awake any longer than necessary. When the door slid shut behind Paul, Hugh let out a puff of air, looking over the rest of the apartment. Luckily, it seemed that mostly everything was already done; Hugh estimated he’d be in his own bed within an hour or two.

He put his tricoder in his back pocket and rolled up his sleeves, quickly getting to work.

✩✭✩

The ride back to Earth was mostly uneventful. The cadets were split up according to their tracks, so Hugh was forced to stick with Geraldo’s company the whole ride (save for the ten-minute bathroom breaks Geraldo often took). The bathroom breaks were a welcome respite for Hugh, who was exhausted of fielding Geraldo’s questions about Paul (“Sleeping Beauty,” as Geraldo insisted on calling him).

They arrived at the Academy at midnight; it’d been chilly, with a thick, lazy fog rolling across the city. It took three hours for Hugh and Geraldo to get checked in, find their stuff, take it to their dorm, and unpack it (in reality, Geraldo went to sleep as soon as they’d gotten to their dorm, and had left Hugh to unpack by himself).

It was 0300 when Hugh fell into his bed, prepared to sleep for the night. His eyelids were heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, but--he pulled his PADD over to him, tiredly typing a message to Paul.

_Hey Paul, I hope you got everything set up alright! What’s your schedule like?_

Paul’s reply was nearly-instantaneous; Hugh was concerned, but more grateful than anything. He hadn’t wanted to wait for a response--he missed Paul.

_I have a class 3 days a week at 0700, and I end most days at 2200. Nothing out of the ordinary._

Paul’s life seemed like hell, if that was “ordinary.” Hugh typed back, _0700 to 2200? No wonder you never sleep. I don’t start until 9._ His tired fingers accidentally pressed send, and he cursed quietly as he tried to quickly finish his message before Paul could say anything. Hugh was lucky, as he got his message off first. _I usually go on a jog at 6, though. You could join me._

Paul’s response was instant again. _That’s literally never going to happen._ Hugh snorted. _I don’t jog, let alone early in the morning._

 _Your loss,_ was the only answer Hugh could come up with. He waited for a response, but Paul’s reply wasn’t instantaneous. Hugh couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and set his PADD to the side, cuddling up to his soft, soft pillows. Drifting off to dreamland felt like bliss.

✩✭✩

“0600 reminder,” the computer’s voice calmly chimed, dragging Hugh out of his deep sleep. “Jog. 0600 reminder: jog. 0600 remi--”

“Understood, computer,” Hugh grumbled into his pillow. “Thank you.”

Hugh kept his face stuffed into his pillow for a few minutes, not ready and unwilling to wake up. He knew he had to, though; he had to get into his routine. He finally peeled himself away from his pillow with a groan, rubbing his face. He grabbed his PADD, only remembering he’d been messaging Paul when he saw the newest message at the top of the list.

_If you wake up at 6, and don’t start class until 9, what’s the rest of your morning schedule like?_

Hugh blinked at the message, a small smile curving his mouth. He took a second to tap out an answer. _Well, I usually finish my workout at 7:30, go back to my dorm and go get breakfast at the cafe down the street before class starts._

Paul didn’t respond instantly, which Hugh decided to take as a good thing. He was hopefully sleeping. Hugh stood up then, stretching with a powerful yawn before he stepped over to his closet to get dressed.

The morning was cool and refreshing, which provided for a brisk jog. Hugh couldn’t say he was upset; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Alpha Centauri, though it had had its moments of chill, had also been very dry. Hugh was grateful for the humidity again. He felt at home.

He got back to his dorm at 07:43. Geraldo was still asleep; his first class wasn’t until 1300. He’d probably still oversleep. Hugh jumped into the shower, and immediately missed Alpha Centauri’s amazing water pressure. The dorm’s showers were still good, of course, but it was like comparing pyrite to real gold. Hugh was out of the shower by 08:09. He got dressed in his uniform before he stepped out of the dorm again, quickly making his way to the cafe down the street, his stomach already grumbling discontentedly. (He tried not to laugh at the thought that it reminded him of Paul.)

Once at the cafe, Hugh got his order--an egg-white breakfast burrito, yum--relatively quickly. He turned to the doors; he planned on enjoying his breakfast outside, to relish in the fresh--

“Hugh!”

Hugh froze, the voice sending a warm curdle of heat through his stomach. He looked over his shoulder, eyes wide until he spotted Paul. A smile involuntarily spread across Hugh’s face as he approached Paul, sliding into the seat across from Paul in the booth. “Good morning,” Hugh said cordially.

Paul gave a thin smile, taking a drink from his cup. “Good morning.”

“Is this why you asked about my schedule?” Hugh asked, giddy laughter at the edge of his voice as he unwrapped his burrito. “To meet me here?”

Hugh dug into his burrito as Paul answered. “After my class, I don’t have another again until 10. I figured there was enough of a time gap that the two of us could meet up. It was an obvious choice.”

Hugh’s grin grew, though he managed to beat back the heat from his cheeks--barely. “I’m glad that spending your morning with me is the most obvious choice.”

Hugh caught sight of a smile curving Paul’s mouth before it was hidden behind his coffee cup. “I would prefer to be sleeping, but we don’t always get what we want.”

Hugh nodded, taking another bite before he answered. “Well, spending my morning with you is definitely my number one choice.”

Paul rolled his eyes a little. “Please,” he said, “I’m sure that’s a gross exaggeration.”

Hugh popped the last bit of his burrito into his mouth. “I’m always honest,” he defended. “It’s part of my charm.” He started to fold his wrapper into a square.

“My mother always said that honesty won the business deal, so long as you knew how to manipulate the truth,” Paul said, just before he took a long sip.

Hugh resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Manipulate the truth? Hugh didn’t want to pre-judge the woman before he’d met her--if he ever even _would_ meet her, of course, but...that didn’t sit right with him. But she _was_ Paul’s mother. “That’s...an interesting viewpoint,” he said tactfully.

Paul’s lips quirked down in a frown. “She’s an...interesting woman,” he said. Before Hugh could ask anything about her, Paul continued, “Anyway, what’s the first class you have coming up?”

That was an avoidal if Hugh had ever heard one, but he liked to think he knew better than to shove with Paul--about personal stuff, anyway. “I have advanced xenobiology,” he said, “with a focus on Tellarites.”

“Tellarites?” Paul asked, setting his cup down. “An interesting choice. Why?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “I thought it would be a good opportunity to learn more than a basic overview of multiple species.”

Paul nodded, though he kept glancing down at his mug. “Give me just a second,” he said abruptly, standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he said before he walked away.

Hugh blinked, watching Paul step over to the counter. It took him only a few moments to order something, and come back with it--a steaming mug of coffee--clutched between his hands. He slid into the booth easily, taking a sip from the mug as he met Hugh’s stare. “What?” Paul asked.

“How many cups of coffee have you had today?” Hugh asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

Paul shrugged. “Four or five? Not that many.” He took another sip. “I’ve already been awake for too many hours.”

Hugh subtly inhaled a deep breath. Oh, boy. “I’d say you should try decaf, but the level of sugar in that cup could kill you with or without the caffeine.”

Paul snorted into his mug. “Five cups doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I’ve done before,” he said, lowering his mug after another sip. “You’d have a heart attack if I told you the upper limits of my caffeine consumption.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Hugh said, eying Paul’s mug, “but I think you’d beat me to it.”

“Please,” Paul scoffed as he took another sip from his mug. “Just wait until finals.”

“Weren’t you trying to convince me you aren’t addicted a while ago?” Hugh asked. “Because that sounds like a dependency to me.”

“Do you _ever_ stop doctoring?” Paul asked, pinning Hugh with a stare.

Hugh froze for a second--maybe he was annoying Paul with all the “doctoring”?--but he played it cool with a roll of his shoulders. “Sure,” he said. “As soon as you limit yourself to three cups a day, I’ll back off.”

Paul snorted. “Not happening,” he said flatly.

Hugh let out a puff of a laugh. “I still have plenty of time to convince you otherwise,” he said with a good-natured grin. “But I’ll back off for now. Tell me about your first class!”

Paul grimaced, and Hugh almost regretted switching the subject. “Awful, as I suspected,” Paul said. “Although the history of mycology is an interesting enough subject, Heimbrack manages to bore me to sleep with it.” He took a sip from his drink, though it seemed like he couldn’t wait to get back to talking. “Granted, I know a lot of the information already, but apparently taking the final day one ‘isn’t allowed’ and I should ‘stop acting like I’m better than the professor,’ even though I could teach half the classes here easily.” He rolled his eyes before he took a long gulp from his mug.

“I believe that,” Hugh said with a nod. “But, hey--at least it’s only one semester, right? He’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“Not soon enough,” Paul grumbled, frowning down at his mug. Hugh straightened up a little, and saw that the mug was empty.

Paul’s gaze trailed up to Hugh searchingly. Hugh should’ve told him to avoid another mug of coffee, but--sheesh, he just didn’t want those ocean eyes to look sad. “Go ahead,” he sighed, making a show of waving his hand. “Drink yourself into a stupor.”

Paul stood up, his cup in his hand. He smirked at Hugh as he said, “Thanks, dear.” He didn’t seem to think anything was wrong, as he turned and began to walk to the counter.

Hugh blinked at Paul’s back, wide-eyed and staring at him. His brain was scrambling, and he couldn’t figure out how to beat back his blush. Had Paul really just called him _dear_? Hugh couldn’t figure out what to say--if he should say anything, or why some part of him wanted Paul to say it again.

Paul was frozen, too, halfway to the counter. As soon as Hugh realized that, though, Paul took off at a rapid walk, not looking back at Hugh.

Hugh jumped up, scrambling to his feet. “Paul--!” he shouted, but Paul was already gone. Hugh didn’t bother to wait this time; he followed through the doors, looking up and down the street before he spotted Paul’s near-white head of hair. “Paul! Wait up!” he shouted as he jogged to catch up with Paul.

Paul froze, hesitating before he turned his head around to look at Hugh over his shoulder. He looked conflicted, but Hugh didn’t give him a chance to run away again; once he caught up, he gave Paul a grin. “If you’re going to leave early from _every_ date, maybe we should make up a sign or something.”

Paul stared at Hugh with a furrowed brow. “...What?”

“Maybe a birdcall,” Hugh said. He was avoiding the _dear_ thing on purpose; Paul obviously hadn’t meant it, and though that pricked at Hugh’s heart a little, he wouldn’t remind Paul of something he regretted. “Or tugging at your left earlobe.”

“You’re...not upset,” Paul said carefully, watching Hugh closely.

“Oh, about what happened in there?” Hugh asked as he gestured back at the cafe. “Of course not,” he said, his smile growing slightly more forced and unnatural. “Stuff sometimes just slips out. I get it.” He was silent for a moment, then quickly added, “I mean--not that I would mind even if it _didn’t_ just slip out. We _have_ been on a date, and--” He shook his head, falling silent. _Nice one, Culber. Smooth as silk._

Paul was silent for a moment, tapping his fingers rapidly against the cup in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he forced out. “I’m...unused to relat--talking to people, anymore.”

Hugh gave Paul a comforting smile. “It’s no problem,” he said. Part of him wanted to reach out and grab Paul’s hand, but he refrained. “I’ve got foot-in-the-mouth syndrome myself, too. There’s no need to apologize.”

“Perhaps so,” Paul said with a thin smile, still tapping his finger against the cup. Nervous tic, maybe? Hugh would make sure to take note of that in the future.

“Well!” Hugh said. “Now that that’s, uh, resolved--” He blinked. He had a class at nine. “...Hey, do you happen to know the time? I left my PADD at home.”

Paul nodded, reaching down to pull his own PADD out of his bag. “It is 08:47,” he informed Hugh.

Oh. _Oh, shit._ Hugh was going to be late--it took him at least 20 minutes to get from the cafe to the _building_ the class was in, not to mention the floor. “Okay I have to go Paul,” he said quickly, words tumbling out of his mouth as he started to jog away, “I’ll see you later, we’re definitely going on a third date, lov--” Hugh clammed his mouth shut tight before he turned around and booked it towards campus. Damn forces of habit. He was lucky he’d caught himself, or they’d have had to have another awkward discussion.

Hugh was only three minutes late to his class, thankfully--though his mind was elsewhere as his professor went over the syllabus.

✩✭✩

Tuesday passed without much incident; Hugh got a full night’s sleep, but outside of that, nothing out of the ordinary happened. He went to the cafe around the same time he had the previous day, but Paul (unsurprisingly) wasn’t there. Hugh supposed it was too much to hope for, but he was still a little disappointed.

Wednesday morning, however, started off uniquely. Hugh was woken up before his alarm by the sounds of Geraldo...singing? It took Hugh a moment to identify the noises he was making, but once he was sufficiently wide awake, that was the only guess that Hugh had.

“I bless the rains down in AAAAAAfricaaaaa!” Geraldo crowed.

“Ger!” Hugh shouted into his pillow. When Geraldo just kept singing, Hugh turned his head toward the door, cracking his eyes open. “ _Ger_!”

“ _I bless the rains--!_ ”

Hugh groaned before he stood up and walked to his door. When it slid open, he saw Geraldo dancing--swaying, really--in the kitchenette, an apron somehow tied sideways around him. He spotted Hugh almost immediately, a lopsided grin coming over his flushed face.

“Huuuugh!” Geraldo said, stumbling closer to Hugh. “Dan--dance wi’ me!”

“What time is it?” Hugh grumbled, rubbing at an eye as he watched Geraldo.

“Time t’dance!” Geraldo said. He hiccuped loudly as he grabbed Hugh’s hands, pulling him out into the living room. “Yaaaah!”

Hugh pulled his hands out of Geraldo’s, watching him “dance” around through bleary eyes. “Ger, you gotta go to bed,” he said.

“I gotta _boogie_!” Geraldo argued.

“There’s not even any music,” Hugh said. “Ger--”

“Comp--computer, play, uh, somethin’ random!” Geraldo commanded, looking up at the ceiling.

A gentle melody started playing, a swelling voice rising over the soft instruments--Kasseelian opera. Hugh resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he firmly gripped Geraldo by the shoulders, starting to steer him to his bedroom.

“Nooo!” Geraldo protested, trying to dig his heels into the carpet. Hugh, luckily, was much stronger, especially with Geraldo being so inebriated. “Huuuuugh you monsteeeer!”

“Go the hell to sleep,” Hugh grumbled, sternly pushing Geraldo into his room. Geraldo stumbled, but didn’t fall (which Hugh was grateful for, as he would’ve felt bad if Geraldo _had_ fallen).

“I don’ wannaaa,” Geraldo whined, facing Hugh again.

Hugh crossed his arms, standing in the doorway. “Go,” he said firmly. “I’m not moving until you’re unconscious.”

“C’mon, daaad,” Geraldo complained. “You wouldn’ treat Sleeb--Sleepin’ Beauty like this!”

Hugh snorted. “Who the hell even gets drunk on a Tuesday night?” he asked, if only so he didn’t have to respond to Geraldo’s accusation. “Get in your bed.”

“You’re such a wet...a wet rug,” Geraldo sighed, dragging his feet over to the bed.

“That’s not the phrase.”

“Well it’s what you are!” Geraldo argued, even as he fell face-first onto his bed.

“Lie on your side,” Hugh said, watching Geraldo closely.

Geraldo let out a displeased groan, shifting with as much drama as possible to his side. “Happy, Dicda--Dictator Culber?”

Hugh snorted. “Very,” he said. “We’re having a long discussion tonight about your drinking habits.”

Geraldo only let out a loud snore. Hugh sighed in relief, stepping out of the doorway. The door slid shut in front of him, and he turned around as he rubbed at his head. The music was still playing. Hugh listened to it for a moment before he mumbled, “Computer, stop music.”

Once the music ceased, Hugh took inventory of the apartment itself. The living room was untouched, but the kitchenette--oh, he just wanted to crawl back into his bed. There were pots and pans everywhere, most with unidentifiable substances coating them. The sink was full of spoons, and there were paper napkins spread all over the floor. What the fuck had been going through Geraldo’s head?

Hugh sighed. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but he had to clean the mess while it was fresh; he didn’t want to see how hard those substances could get. “Computer, what time is it?” he asked quietly as he picked his way to the kitchenette.

“It is currently 03:23,” the computer helpfully supplied.

Hugh couldn’t hold back another sigh, and got ready for a _long_ day as he started to pull the spoons out of the sink. Geraldo owed him.

✩✭✩

Hugh didn’t remember falling asleep, but he knew he had when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He was doubled over, sitting on a stool, his cheek pressed against the cool marble of the counter. His neck felt stiff; he could already tell it had a crick, and his hand was tightly fisted around a wash cloth. He didn’t want to move; he could already imagine all the cracking joints. He felt ancient.

“Hugh?” came Geraldo’s exhausted voice.

“Hunh…?” Hugh moaned, wishing he could bury his face further into a pillow.

“Aren’t you late for...somethin’?” Geraldo asked, sounding _very_ unsure. “You’re never here this late. ...Early. Whatever.”

“Whas th’ time?” Hugh grumbled, cracking his eyes open (which took a Herculean effort by itself).

“‘Bout 08:20,” Geraldo said.

Hugh wordlessly shot to his feet, wincing as every bone in his body gave an exhausted pop--save for his neck, which just stabbed a dagger of pain through him. He dropped the wash cloth on the counter, bringing a hand up to massage his tense neck as he made his way to his room, working on shaking off the sleep.

“0600 reminder: jog,” the computer was blaring loudly once Hugh reached his room. “0600 reminder: jog. 0600 reminder: j--”

“Understood, computer,” Hugh grumbled as he made his way to his closet.

He didn’t have time for a shower--but he could still get breakfast. After how long he’d spent in the kitchenette the prior night, he didn’t want to spend another second there. He could probably just grab something to-go from the cafe and make his way to his class immediately.

He quickly pulled on his uniform (a little messily, but it was better than nothing) before he grabbed his bag and power-walked to the front door. Geraldo was pressing his face against the cool marble of the counter.

“Thanks, Ger,” Hugh said as he stepped through the front door.

Geraldo let out a long, wordless groan before the door shut behind Hugh.

Hugh walked as quickly as he could to the cafe, forcing the brisk pace to wake himself up. He still felt stiff, but the cool morning air was working, he thought. It wasn’t until he saw the cafe that he remembered he might see Paul there. He paused in his stride a second at the thought--he was a _mess_ \--but he forced himself to keep going. He could blame Geraldo if Paul broke up with him. Not that they were boyfriends or anything, of course, Hugh scolded himself; he meant break up as friends. A platonic break-up. Maybe he should’ve just gone straight to class.

Hugh stepped into the cafe, telling himself not to look immediately where Paul had been on Monday. He couldn’t fight against the urge for long, though, and looked over before he reached the counter. When his gaze met Paul’s--who had his PADD in front of him, a slight furrow between his brows, and his hands wrapped around his mug--Hugh felt his mood improve by miles. He gave Paul a smile and a wave before he stepped up to the counter and made his order.

When he had his breakfast burrito, Hugh made his way to Paul’s booth, sliding in effortlessly. “Good morning, Paul,” he said with a grin.

“What’s so good about it?” Paul asked in a grumble, taking a sip of his coffee.

Had something happened, or was Paul just not a morning person? Hugh decided to believe the latter, though he blurted before he could reconsider, “Well, I get to see you, so that makes my morning special already.”

Hugh wanted to take back the words, and that feeling only intensified when Paul choked on his coffee, face red. He sputtered for a moment, and Hugh nearly jumped to his feet to help--but Paul calmed down after another cough, thankfully. Hugh watched him closely as Paul said, voice raw, “That is the most absurd thing I’ve heard all week.”

“What, you don’t think anyone can enjoy your company?” Hugh asked, lifting a brow.

Paul shrugged a shoulder, sipping from his mug. “Past experience has told me that.”

Hugh frowned. “What about Straal?” he asked. “You two spend tons of time together; he _must_ enjoy hanging around you.”

“That’s different,” Paul said, his frown deepening. Uh-oh. “Straal is my research partner. He understands my work, and can help with it. People who can’t understand don’t like talking to me.” He took another sip from his mug. “Not that I mind, of course; dull-minded people aren’t worth my time.”

“I love spending time with you,” Hugh couldn’t stop himself from saying, “and hearing about your research. People who don’t try to listen don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Paul stayed silent, staring at Hugh for a few moments. Hugh met his gaze fearlessly, hands automatically unwrapping his burrito. Finally, Paul quietly asked, “...Why?”

“Why what?” Hugh asked.

“Why are you so...so invested?” Paul asked, leaning back as he continued staring at Hugh. “Ever since we met, you’ve seemed interested in my work.”

“It’s interesting stuff,” Hugh said. He took a bite from his burrito, chewed, swallowed, then continued. “I mean, it could revolutionize the way the galaxy works. It’s amazing how many strides you’re making as a cadet. Even one with a PhD,” Hugh added as an afterthought, giving Paul a small grin. “You’re a genius. Anyone who can’t see _that_ is missing out.”

Paul blinked owlishly at Hugh, a blush coming over his cheeks. “I--” he said, then stopped for a second, glancing down at his mug. He abruptly stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said before he made his way to the counter.

Hugh watched him go with an amused grin--until his neck angrily protested. Hugh grimaced, reaching up to rub the pained spot as he returned his head to a more neutral position. He wished he had time to handle that--speaking of time, how long had he been there for? Hugh feverishly pulled out his PADD, sighing in relief when the display read _08:33_. He had time.

He was still rubbing the side of his neck when Paul returned, a newly-steaming mug cupped in his hands.

“Is your neck alright?” Paul asked as he sat down.

Hugh blinked, automatically pulling his hand away from his neck. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “I just fell asleep on the counter last night, so--”

“The counter?” Paul asked, lifting a brow. “That’s a strange place to sleep.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Hugh laughed. “Ger got drunk last night and made a mess of the kitchen, so I had to clean up after him and...forgot to get back to bed.” Hugh tried not to shudder as he remembered scrubbing what looked like burnt mac and cheese from one of their bigger pots--it’d been nearly solid by the time he’d gotten to it.

“Your roommate got drunk on a Tuesday night?” Paul asked, sipping from his mug.

Hugh nodded, swallowing another bite. “Ger makes some...questionable decisions sometimes. Well, okay, he does it a lot, but he’s still focused on his studies. Mostly.”

“It seems to me like that’s a contradiction,” Paul said before he took another sip.

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Ger has that effect,” he replied. He glanced down at his PADD to check the time, grimacing when _08:39_ flashed across the screen. “I should get going,” he said, looking apologetically up at Paul.

A frown tugged at the corner of Paul’s mouth, but his mug quickly hid it. “Alright,” he said.

“You could always come with me,” Hugh offered with a teasing grin as he stood up, popping the final bit of his burrito into his mouth.

Paul snorted. “I’d rather not spend any more time in a class I could sleep through and pass with flying colors, but thank you for the offer.”

“No problem,” Hugh said. “The offer will probably stand for the rest of the semester.” He picked up his wrapper, already walking away as he waved at Paul. “See you, Paul!”

Paul gave him a nod. “‘Goodbye, Hugh,” he said before Hugh stepped through the doors.

Hugh took a deep breath, facing forward and walking down the street. He didn’t want to admit it, but after seeing Paul, he didn’t feel as tired.

✩✭✩

For the next few weeks, Hugh saw Paul in the café every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. It became a sort of routine; he found himself shaving time off of his workout so he didn’t have to leave Paul so soon. Not the healthiest decision, but he was tired of only seeing Paul in 20-minute increments at most.

They continued in that fashion for about two weeks. Hugh returned to his dorm late the second Friday night (he’d been locked in a presentation for xenobiology that’d lasted three hours--honestly, the things he did for extra credit). Geraldo was out, which was typical; he worked hard, but he also played hard.

Hugh collapsed on the couch as he pulled his PADD out of his bag, intending to see if Geraldo had given any indication as to when he’d be back. The most recent message, however, was from Paul--two hours prior, at 1600. Oops.

 _Hugh,_ was all it read.

Hugh smiled at the simple message, quickly typing a response. _That’s my name. What’s up, Paul?_

Paul’s response was almost immediate. _Where were you?_ Before Hugh could answer, Paul sent, _You’re usually home by 1500._

_Sorry, I had to go to a lecture for some extra credit. Didn’t think it’d take so long._

_Oh,_ was Paul’s response. He didn’t say anything else, but Hugh decided to give him a few minutes. He made his way to the kitchenette, setting his PADD on the counter before he started to make some tea.

His tea finished warming up by the time Paul sent another message. _Can I ask you something?_

 _Of course,_ Hugh typed, sipping at his tea. Paul normally wasn’t so hesitant.

Paul didn’t send anything for a few minutes. Hugh was nearly done with his cup of tea when messages started blowing up his PADD, all from Paul.

_VFKW_

_Joso_

_N JXDKS S_

_L_

_; KLLA_

Hugh lifted a brow as he watched the nonsense messages pop up on the screen. They stopped for a moment before one final one was sent.

_My apologies, Straalbdneb_

Hugh huffed a laugh, smiling. _Take your time,_ he typed back good-naturedly.

Paul didn’t send any messages for a few moments after that. Hugh managed to wash his cup and put it back in the cupboard by the time Paul sent a message.

_Are you busy tomorrow night?_

Hugh blinked at the message, heat fanning on his cheeks. For a second, he remembered all the work he had to do--a lab report, a xenobioethics essay that was due that Monday, an exam he had to study for--but he wasn’t stupid.

 _Not a bit,_ Hugh replied. _Why? ;)_. He almost didn’t send the winky face, but he was feeling bold.

 _Go on a date with me,_ came Paul’s quick response. Hugh blinked at the speed of it, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 _I’d love to,_ Hugh responded. He hesitated before sending, _But what’s the occasion, I wonder?_

Paul’s response took a few moments.

_The occasion is I libfmdd_

Hugh lifted a brow. It seemed that Straal was attacking again. He decided to give the pair some time to work it out. The next message came a minute or two later.

_Dammit Stamets I almost had it for you. I don’t need your help, I had it under control. You were never going to ask him out, you know I. Wait what’s your PADD doing? Oh no you turned on speech-to-text. Dammit Straal, computer. Hi Prince charming._

Hugh laughed aloud at that one, electing to ignore the “Prince Charming.” He was lucky Geraldo wasn’t as hands-on with his “help” as Straal was, he supposed.

Another message popped up in a few minutes. _This is not how I wanted this conversation to go._

Hugh laughed again, typing back his response quickly. _To whom am I speaking?_

_Stamets. I apologize. That won’t happen again._

_And here I was having such a good time,_ Hugh typed, unable to hold back his snicker. _Is that date still on the table?_

Paul took a few moments to respond. _Are you interested?_

 _Of course!_ Hugh replied. _Provided it’s with you, naturally. Straal’s not my type._

 _It’s with me,_ Paul responded quickly.

_Then yes, of course I’ll go. When and where?_

_Tomorrow at 1900?_ Paul sent. Then, _I can pick you up._

 _Sounds great,_ Hugh replied, unable to keep the smile off his face. _I’ll see you tomorrow! (:_

 _I’ll need your address,_ Paul immediately sent.

 _Oh! Duh!_ Hugh sent as he tried to ignore the embarrassed heat on his back. _Building 2, room 204._ Oops.

 _Thank you,_ Paul replied. _I’ll see you tomorrow, Hugh._

Hugh didn’t respond--what would he say? But he couldn’t keep the grin off his face for the rest of the night. He was glad Geraldo wasn’t returning until late, so he wouldn’t have to explain why he was so giddy.


	6. Chapter Six

Hugh almost regretted setting the date for so late in the day, as he wasn’t able to really focus. He tried to focus on his work, but he could only think about what he and Paul would be doing.

Eventually, Hugh couldn’t take it. At 1300, he messaged Paul, _So...can I ask what we’re doing?_

Paul’s reply took a few minutes. _It’s a surprise. Wear something nice._

 _Are you sure you’re ready for my finest tuxedo?_ Hugh typed back, a smile playing along the edges of his mouth.

 _Not that nice._ Hugh snickered; he could almost hear Paul’s deadpan.

The next few hours were a bit more bearable. Hugh could at least get _some_ of his work done, though he couldn’t sit still for very long. After every 20 minutes of work, he got up and started pacing, energy coursing through him. Why was he so--nervous? Excited? Both, probably.

He was ready and waiting about an hour before Paul was meant to get there. He was in a purple button-down, tucked into a pair of black slacks. He sat on the couch as he waited, thumbs nervously fiddling as he held his PADD. He was half-heartedly skimming over a critical analysis for xenobioethics when he heard Geraldo behind him.

“Is that your date shirt?!” he all but shouted, making Hugh jump. “I haven’t seen that in years!”

Hugh rolled his eyes, glancing back at Geraldo. “It hasn’t been _years_ ,” he said.

“Whatever,” Geraldo replied with a shrug, before a devilish grin crawled across his face. “It’s for Sleeping Beauty, isn’t it?”

“Who else would it be for?” Hugh snorted. “He’s supposed to be here at 1900.”

“Eee I’m so excited!” Geraldo squealed, coming around the side of the couch. “Stand up, let me see you!”

Hugh let out a short sigh even as he stood. He’d be grateful for Geraldo’s help, but--

“My dear sweet boy has become a man,” Geraldo sniffed, wiping away a fake tear. “I’m so proud.”

“Calm down,” Hugh said. “I’ve always been--”

“Semantics,” Geraldo claimed with a wave of his hand. “Did he ask you? Or did you have to again?”

“He asked me,” Hugh said, unable to smother the smile at the memory.

“Good,” Geraldo said firmly. “You need someone with some initiative.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Hugh said, straightening his collar.

“I never said that!” Geraldo protested. “I have to meet him first.”

“You already have,” Hugh replied.

“That does _not_ count,” Geraldo said. “He ran away, Hugh.”

Hugh had a teasing smile on as he said, “He made the right call.”

Geraldo snorted. “And here I was, about to give you some fashion tips,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I look fine,” Hugh said, though he frowned. “...Right?”

Geraldo scoffed. “Don’t sound so unsure!” he said, then stepped forward. “Just one thing: you’re not a top button kinda guy,” he said as he unbuttoned the topmost button of Hugh’s shirt.

Hugh snorted, reaching up to re-do it. “Yes I am.”

“You aren’t,” Geraldo insisted. He reached up to unbutton it again, but Hugh batted his hands away.

“You have a strange perception of me in your head,” Hugh claimed.

“Don’t be so uptight!”

“I’m not being uptight,” Hugh defended. “He said to dress nice, and--”

“And you look nice with your top button undone,” Geraldo argued. “C’monnnn, trust me.”

“The last time I trusted you, I ended up stumbling home wasted with half my shirt undone,” Hugh said, crossing his arms.

Geraldo frowned. “Hey, how was I supposed to know she couldn’t keep her hands to herself?”

“You said you met her in high school.”

“Whatever,” Geraldo said. “When he gets here, can I take a pictu--”

“No.” Hugh shook his head. “You’re staying in your room until we’re gone.”

“What?!” Geraldo asked. “You can’t do that to me!”

“What if he runs away again?” Hugh asked.

“I don’t think he’s _that_ traumatized, is he?”

“Even if he isn’t, you’d say something weird and mess it up,” Hugh said. “Just--” he sighed, “please. Just this once. You can harass him for the following dates.”

“Ooh, following dates,” Geraldo said, an impish grin coming over his face. “So are you two _an item_ now?”

Hugh snorted, looking away. “...Maybe,” he said. “We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“You have to bring it up tonight,” Geraldo said. “Do it.”

“We’ll see,” Hugh said. “Now go to your room.”

Geraldo groaned. “I still have half an hour!”

“What if he’s early?” Hugh asked, as he started to shoo Geraldo away. “Go, go.”

“Fiiine,” Geraldo sighed as he dragged his feet to his room. “I want a full report when you get back.” He shot a grin over his shoulder at Hugh. “ _If_ you get back.”

“‘Bye, Ger,” Hugh said sternly, frowning at Geraldo even as heat caressed his cheeks. Geraldo laughed right before his bedroom door slid shut behind him.

Paul did not show up early. Hugh tried not to notice how much he was pacing and glancing at the time as the minutes ticked down, closer and closer to 1900.

Hugh felt his heart stop at the knock that sounded exactly at 1900. He took a deep breath, waiting a moment to calm himself down. It was just a date. With Paul Stamets. Prickly, attractive genius Paul Stamets. They’d been on one before. He’d be fine.

Hugh stepped up to the door after a few moments, letting it slide open. Paul was there, naturally; he was tapping a finger against his leg. Hugh couldn’t keep the giggle out of his mouth when he realized they were dressed similarly; the only difference was that Paul’s shirt was a soft lilac, rather than the deep purple of Hugh’s.

“Hello, Paul,” Hugh said, not bothering to wipe his smile off his face.

“Hugh,” Paul said with a nod. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Hugh said as he stepped through the door, letting it shut behind him. “I see great minds think alike,” he said, motioning slightly between their shirts.

Paul’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced down at their shirts. “Oh.” He met Hugh’s gaze again as he said, “If it bothers you, I can go change. I have plenty more.”

Hugh shook his head. “I like it,” he said. “You look great--and besides, this way, nobody will doubt who you’re with.”

“If you say so,” Paul murmured, beginning to walk down the hall. Hugh fell into step next to him. “You look nice, too.”

“Thank you,” Hugh said, trying to ignore the small flutter of his heart. “Does that mean you’ll tell me where we’re going?”

Paul’s lips twitched upwards. “No.”

“Aw, come on, Paul,” Hugh whined. “Why not?”

“You insisted on keeping the secret during our first date,” Paul answered. “How could I do any less?”

“I at least gave you a hint,” Hugh defended.

“Right before you showed me what we were doing,” Paul said. He stepped in front of Hugh to open the door for him as he said, “It wasn’t that good of a hint anyway.”

“Hey!” Hugh laughed, stepping outside of the building. “You seemed to like it in the moment.”

“Of course,” Paul said as he led the way down the sidewalk, Hugh at his side. “You know my thoughts on Starfleet. That doesn’t mean it was a good hint.”

“Okay, okay,” Hugh said. “Fine; it wasn’t a good hint. But it was still a hint.”

“You won’t rest until I give in, will you?” Paul asked, peering up at Hugh.

“Nope,” Hugh said, shaking his head a little. He wanted to stop smiling, to keep up the illusion of the “argument,” but his heart wouldn’t let him.

“Alright,” Paul mumbled, looking forward as he pursed his lips in thought. He was silent for a few beats before he said, “It has nothing to do with mushrooms.”

“Seriously?” Hugh asked, only barely holding back another laugh. “And you thought _my_ hint was bad?”

“I’m only keeping it fair,” Paul said. “A bad hint begets a bad hint.”

“Does this mean I get to skip out early on you, too, then?” Hugh asked before he could reconsider.

At Paul’s slight frown, Hugh regretted the quip. “I...apologize for that,” Paul said carefully. “Our experiment was at a critical juncture, and--”

“It’s fine,” Hugh quickly said. “I understand. I was just kidding, sorry. I won’t leave early. Unless one of us suddenly falls unconscious or something, in which case I would be obligated to get you to the hospital or...something.” Hugh coughed into his arm, the tips of his ears burning. “Remember when I mentioned foot-in-the-mouth syndrome?”

Paul exhaled a small puff of air. “I do remember,” he said.

“Right,” Hugh said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. _Play it cool, Culber, holy shit._ “So, no mushrooms. It can’t be dinner, then, because some dishes have mushrooms.”

“...Right,” Paul said, stoically staring forward. “Obviously.”

“And since we’re dressed nicely...are we going to a play? You hate music, so it can’t be the opera.”

“I don’t hate music,” Paul defended.

“Okay, then you hate _opera_ ,” Hugh amended, a smile teasing his lips again. “My guess still stands.”

“You’ll see,” Paul said, not making eye contact. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost there?” Hugh asked, frowning in thought. “I don’t remember a theatre being near here.”

“Perhaps you need to rethink your analysis then,” Paul said, shrugging his shoulders a little.

Hugh hummed a little in thought. “Well, maybe it’s--”

“Too late, we’re here,” Paul quickly interrupted.

Hugh blinked, stopping abruptly as he looked around. They were in front of--oh, _shit_. It was a tall, two-story building, with windows spanning from floor-to-ceiling. The interior had hanging glass sculptures and paintings, and by their design, they were probably expensive. Golden script over the door read _Lyron’s_.

“Wow,” Hugh breathed, busy drinking in the sight of the beautiful building. “ _This_ is the place you had in mind?”

“Yes,” Paul said, a small smile in his voice. Hugh was too busy staring at the building to notice much else--when had he last been somewhere so fancy? His high school graduation? It seemed like ages away.

“Are you coming with me?” Paul asked, startling Hugh out of his thoughts.

When Hugh looked down, he saw Paul standing in front of the open door. “Yeah,” Hugh said with a nod, quickly stepping up beside Paul.

In the lobby, there seemed to be a crowd of people waiting. Hugh started to resign himself to a long wait, but Paul strode confidently up to the Andorian host. After a moment of hesitation, Hugh followed after him.

The Andorian politely inclined his head toward Paul. “Mister Stamets,” he said with a cordial smile. “Welcome back. Shall I take you to your usual table?”

Holy shit, they knew Paul by _name_? Who the hell was Hugh dating? Or, rather, going on dates with. Too busy with his internal debate over semantics, Hugh almost didn’t notice when Paul and the Andorian started walking away.

Hugh quickly caught up, looking around the restaurant with wide eyes. He tried not to seem too awestruck, but it was hard. The lights made glittering rainbows in the crystal chandeliers, and all the conversations were hushed. Everyone was dressed exceptionally fancy.

They came to a stop at a table near the back of the restaurant. Paul sat in his seat as he accepted a menu from the Andorian. Hugh followed suit, making sure to mumble a thanks even as he tried hard not to look around. Was that a _fountain_?

“Shall I put it on your usual tab, Mister Stamets?” the host asked.

Paul nodded. “Yes, that will be satisfactory,” he said.

“I shall leave you to it, then,” the host said before he left the two of them alone.

When Hugh looked back at Paul, he nearly jumped to see Paul looking at him closely. “This isn’t too much, is it?” Paul asked, tapping his fingers against the edge of his menu.

Hugh shook his head. “No, no,” he quickly said. “This is great! I’m just surprised--in a good way. All good ways.”

Hugh didn’t miss Paul’s quiet sigh. “I wasn’t sure what sort of location to pick,” Paul said, “but I hoped this would be to your liking.”

Hugh nodded. “It is,” he said. “I promise. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been anywhere this fancy.” He glanced over his menu, pressing his lips together at the prices. “...And expensive.”

Paul nodded a little. “As I said, I’ll just put everything on my tab,” he said, “so don’t worry about the price.”

Hugh nodded, a little relieved; even the salads were expensive. “Thank you,” Hugh said, looking at Paul gratefully.

“Did you think I’d make you pay for your own dinner?” Paul asked, lifting a brow a smidgeon.

“I mean, you never know,” Hugh said with a smile. “I’ve been on plenty of bad dates.” He glanced down at the menu, then frowned as the words hit his ears. “I mean, not _plenty_. And I never thought that you’d--” He shook his head, trying to lift the menu a little to hide his flaming cheeks. “So, um, you come here often?” Hugh asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Paul lifted a brow. “You already have the date, Hugh,” he said. “There’s no need to use a line.”

Hugh blinked. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said, laughing a little. _Save me._

“I know,” Paul confirmed, a small huff of a laugh escaping him. “But I often come here on a yearly basis, with my parents. They own some stock in this particular chain of intergalactic restaurants, so….” Paul shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly.

“Sheesh, I had no idea,” Hugh mumbled, glancing over the menu. “If you come here often, what do you suggest? No desserts.” He glanced up at Paul with a teasing grin.

Paul snorted. “Desserts are the only thing worth ordering,” he said as he flipped to the back of the menu.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Hugh said, not losing his smile as he looked over the menu some more.

“It’s true,” Paul defended. “The créme brûlée is quite good.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Hugh said, though he pointedly didn’t flip to the desserts page. “But if we order dessert right off the bat, our date will be over too soon, won’t it?”

Hugh glanced up at Paul to gauge his reaction. He was pointedly looking away from Hugh, his lips pursed, though Hugh noticed with no small amount of triumph that Paul flipped back a page.

Hugh read through the menu with a smile on his face. Most of the dishes were very fancy, using ingredients Hugh had only heard of in the cooking shows Geraldo loved to watch. The other dishes had names that Hugh was afraid of even trying to pronounce, so he decided to stay away from those.

Hugh was horribly confused about what to order. A server came and poured some red wine in their glasses (and provided glasses full of water, thankfully) before Hugh could decide. When he flipped the page, though, his eyes landed on a dish that made a smile ease across his face. Oh, _perfect_.

Hugh closed his menu, placing it at the edge of the table. Paul was still looking over his own, a furrow between his brows.

Hugh took a sip of his water before he asked, “Having trouble deciding?”

Paul glanced up at him. “I hadn’t realized what a large variety there was,” he muttered. “What are you getting?”

Hugh smiled. “You’ll see,” he said, before he reached for his menu again. “I’ll help you, though. Are you allergic to anything?”

Paul was silent for a beat before he said, “Probably not.”

“Probably not?” Hugh echoed, looking up at Paul. “You don’t know?”

“It’s never come up before,” Paul said, staring intently at his menu. “There’s no need to help me, though; I’ve just decided what to get.” He quickly closed his menu.

Hugh lifted a brow. “If you say so,” he said, setting his own menu on the table again.

Before he could say anything else, their server came over again, holding a small screen in his hand. “Are you two ready to order?”

Paul nodded as he said, “I’ll have the sea bass.”

Hugh was glad that Paul was springing for _real_ food. He wanted to force down the smile on his face as he ordered--how was Paul so good at the deadpan expression?--but he couldn’t as he looked up at the server, offering him the menu. “I’d like the Stamets risotto, thank you.”

As soon as the words were out of Hugh’s mouth, Paul let out a choking sound. When Hugh looked down at him, he was coughing as he set his glass of water on the table. “The _what_?!” Paul sputtered.

Hugh moved to stand up from his seat, to help Paul get over his choking, but Paul waved him back down as he calmed down. “Is...there a problem, sir?” the server asked doubtfully, sharing a worried glance with Hugh.

“Is that a real dish?” Paul asked, focusing his gaze on the waiter.

The waiter nodded. “The Stamets risotto is a mushroom risotto named after one of Lyron’s principle investors,” he explained. “It wasn’t added to the menu until a few weeks ago.”

“I need to come here more often,” Paul murmured, glancing at Hugh before he nodded at the server. “Thank you, that will be all.”

Hugh waited for the server to depart before he asked, a smile still toying at the edge of his mouth, “Are you alright? I wasn’t trying to kill you, I hope you know.”

“I was just...surprised,” Paul said, a blush stark on his face. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought us here.”

“That would’ve been a shame,” Hugh said. “Then I wouldn’t have been able to order it.”

Paul took a sip from his water with much less fanfare than before. “Why _did_ you order it?” he asked, his voice less raw. “I can’t imagine your first choice was a simple mushroom risotto.”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not every day that your date has a dish named after him,” he said, his grin growing. “It would’ve been wrong to not capitalize on it.”

Paul snorted. “With that kind of thinking, you may get stuck with a dish you hate.”

“What’s not to like about mushrooms?” Hugh asked. “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine. And if I don’t, I can just steal from your plate.”

“Ah, so _that’s_ why you wanted me to avoid a dessert,” Paul said. “So you had a backup plan.”

“No,” Hugh said, “I did that because I care about you and you eat too many sugary foods.”

Paul frowned. “You’ve known me for hardly a month, how can you make any assumptions about my diet?”

“I’ve seen how you take your coffee,” Hugh said. “Plus your time in the hospital only seems to agree with me.”

Paul scoffed. “An isolated incident.”

Hugh resisted the urge to scoff back. “So you’re telling me that you _do_ eat healthy outside of your coffee choices?”

Paul hesitated before he nodded. “Yes. I do.”

Hugh couldn’t keep from playfully rolling his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I am not!” Paul immediately defended.

“No,” Hugh said as he shook his head, “you definitely are.”

Hugh was surprised with how neutral he was able to school his face into being, but he knew his mirth was shining through his eyes. Paul looked similarly, though, an amused crinkle at the corner of his eyes in an otherwise-deadpan face.

“I suppose you always eat healthy then, Doctor Culber?” Paul asked, lifting one white-blond eyebrow.

“Not always,” Hugh admitted, “but I also work out daily, so it tends to even out.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he added, “The offer to join me is always available.” He took a sip from his glass of water.

“It’s never going to happen,” Paul said firmly. “I suggest you give up now.”

Hugh shrugged; he hadn’t expected any less, but he liked seeing Paul’s bold nature. “A man can always dream.”

“I do hope you don’t dream of convincing me to wake up at six in the morning to go jogging,” Paul said flatly.

“Well, you have class around then, so of course not,” Hugh said with a grin. “But I could always change my routine to afternoons, if that would help persuade you.”

Hugh caught Paul’s gaze drift down to his arms. His smile stretched bigger before Paul’s gaze snapped back to his face. _Caught you._

“I’m afraid my afternoons are full,” Paul said. “I’m busy with work late into the night each day.”

“And you still made time for me,” Hugh said. “I’m touched. Maybe our next date can be a nice, romantic jog through the park.”

Paul snorted. “I don’t think you’d want me to fall over dead on our third date. It’d be anticlimactic.” Hugh had his response ( _you’re already drop-dead gorgeous_ ) ready to go, but Paul continued, “Also, are you asking me out on another date before this one is even finished? You could learn to hate me in the next few hours, so you shouldn’t be hasty.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Hugh said. “If I wasn’t run off after our first meeting, why would I be run off now? I like you, Paul. And besides, I like being optimistic.” He took a sip from his glass. “If you don’t want to go on another date, you can always say no.” In truth, Hugh’s heart clenched at the thought, but he didn’t want Paul to feel pressured into anything.

“No, no,” Paul quickly said. “I...would definitely like to go on another date with you. Just, preferably one that doesn’t involve running.” His fingers started to tap against his glass. “Besides, you don’t know enough about me to decide whether or not you should run away. My personality is layered, you know, like an onion.”

“I like onions,” Hugh said immediately, and almost hit himself for how stupid it sounded. “I mean--tell me about yourself, then. What layer haven’t I seen yet?”

Paul blinked, before he shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “You can’t simply ask an onion how many layers it has,” he said. “It’s too complicated for that.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t, then,” Hugh said. “Ideally, I’ll get to see them all with time--but I’d like to hear about one you haven’t shown me.” He took a sip of his water. “I haven’t seen you at work,” he supplied.

Paul tapped his fingers against his wineglass lightly as he pursed his lips in thought. “When I’m at work,” he said slowly, “I...am very focused on my job. I doubt you’d approve of it. I usually get lost in all of it. The passage of time, as arbitrary as it is, becomes meaningless.”

Hugh nodded, listening intently. He was able to read between the lines; Paul took more care in his work than in his wellbeing. “I can appreciate diligence,” Hugh carefully said, “but not at the cost of health. Unfortunately for you, that just makes me want to help you more.” He gave Paul a small grin as he took a sip from his water. Where was their food?

Paul raised an eyebrow as he said, “I’m at the peak of physical health, thank you. I doubt there’s anything you could help me with.”

Hugh couldn’t hold back his laugh. After it escaped, he covered his mouth with a hand, letting out a _very_ attractive (read: hideous) snort as he did so. “Sorry,” Hugh said, heat fanning his cheeks as he lowered his hand again. “When we met, you were so powered on caffeine that you were shaking. That’s not the peak of physical health, dear.”

Hugh felt relief as Paul’s cheeks alighted in a blush. _Diversion successful._ “Well,” Paul sputtered before he gathered himself together, “like I said before, it was an isolated incident and you have no way of proving if that is something that commonly occurs.”

“I could call Straal and ask,” Hugh said. “Or ask to hold your hand. And besides, you seemed to be going through withdrawals in the hospital. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Well I _was_ in a medical coma for three days,” Paul huffed. “That’s obviously going to affect anyone negatively.” He took a sip of wine, muttering under his breath.

“I think that proves my point, then,” Hugh said with a bright smile. “You can’t be at peak physical health because you nearly died recently.” He felt his expression sober up at that, and he quickly averted his gaze before taking a sip of water.

“Please,” Paul said, “it was hardly the worst situation I’ve been in. I’ve obviously recovered fully, and there’s no further adverse side effects.” He shrugged.

Before Hugh had a chance to respond, their server approached with two steaming, aromatic dishes of food. “The sea bass and Stamets risotto,” he murmured as he placed the respective dishes gently in front of Paul and Hugh.

“Thank you,” Paul said, giving the server a cold smile. Hugh mirrored the sentiment with a nod and a (somewhat more genuine, he’d like to hope) smile before the server stepped away.

Hugh picked up his fork, eying the risotto carefully. “You know, it doesn’t look much like you,” he said with a teasing smile twitching his lips as he glanced up at Paul. “You’re much more handsome.”

Paul froze, a piece of fish halfway to his mouth, as he glanced between Hugh and the risotto. “I would hope so,” he finally said, “since I’m not a pile of mushroom rice.”

Hugh laughed. “I have to take whatever chances I can get here,” he said. “Cut me some slack.” He dug his fork into the risotto then, carefully spearing both rice and mushrooms on the tines before bringing it up to his mouth.

Paul swallowed his bite before he asked with furrowed brows, “Chances with what?”

Hugh swallowed his own bite before he spoke. “With complimenting you, of course. I mean, I’d shower you in them if you _really_ wanted, but I prefer working them into normal conversation. Or, um, somewhat normal conversation.” He took another bite of risotto; it wasn’t half bad, really. The mushrooms were a little rubbery (and _very_ garlicky), but the plain rice cut the strong flavor nicely.

“Oh,” Paul said as he picked up a piece of sea bass, his cheeks tinting pink.

When Paul didn’t say anything else, Hugh quickly added, “Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can stop. You deserve to hear nice things but if you don’t want to hear them--or me to say them--then I can...stop.”

Paul shook his head, and Hugh felt his stomach curl in on itself when Paul’s free hand started tapping its fingers against the table. Shit. “No, no,” Paul said, “I...am unused to it. To...all of this. My apologies.”

“Oh!” Hugh said. “There’s no need to apologize,” he continued, giving Paul a sheepish grin. “I can’t claim to be the most professional guy in this department, either. But if anything I do or say makes you uncomfortable, you’ll let me know, right?” Hugh didn’t think he really had to ask--Paul was honest enough on his own--but slight embarrassment unlocked his mouth like nothing else. He inhaled a big forkful of risotto.

Paul hesitated as he chewed on a bite. Once he swallowed, he looked down at his bass as he cut another piece. “Yes, of course,” he said.

Some superficial part of Hugh felt relief, but...he wasn’t entirely convinced. Something felt off. He told himself that his instincts were rarely correct with Paul, and let it go; it was probably (hopefully) nothing.

After a few bites in silence, Paul asked, “How have your classes been going? We’re a few weeks in, so something must have picked up by now, yes?”

Hugh shrugged. “Well enough,” he answered. “The anatomy lab is brutal, but spending four hours every Thursday in a single lab can do that to you.” Hugh almost shuddered at just recalling it.

Paul nodded. “What about that...what was it? Bio 434?”

Hugh sighed. “Yeah, environmental physiology; easily one of the hardest I’ve had at the academy.” He tilted his head a little. “What about your classes, Paul? How are your professors?”

“They’re all idiots,” Paul said immediately. Hugh had to hold in his laugh; how typical. “They can pretend and blather about all they like, but working here has obviously made them complacent.”

“What are they doing?” Hugh asked.

“Well, to start off with, Smith is constantly belittling me,” Paul said, gesticulating with his fork. “Just yesterday, she asked me if I knew how to turn the blood analyzer on. Who does she think she is? I have a degree in biochemistry, I know how to turn a machine on.”

As Paul continued, Hugh worked away at his risotto, still carefully listening. “Then, of course, there’s Heimbrack, who can’t seem to grasp the concept that both Straal and I know more about mycology than he ever could, and there’s barely 15 students in the class total. Honestly, I should be teaching it at this point.”

Hugh nodded along, a small frown on his face. When Paul didn’t continue, Hugh said, “I understand what you mean, but I’m sure that teaching wasn’t their first choice in profession either. Imagine if _you_ had to teach after graduating in the Academy.”

Paul pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I suppose,” he said. “I’ve seen what the first years here are like, and I have no wish to speak to anyone with that sort of mentality again.”

“Exactly,” Hugh said with a nod. “So imagine how those professors must feel.” He scooped the last bit of risotto into his mouth.

Paul scoffed, “They should still recognize genius when they see it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hugh said with a teasing grin playing at his lips, “I hear a lot of academic types are too busy admiring themselves to really notice other people.”

“Exactly,” Paul immediately agreed, “I say--” He stopped, eyebrows furrowing. “...I see what you did there. Haha, clever.”

A broad smile extended across Hugh’s mouth. “Thanks, I try.”

The server stepped up again at that moment, a courteous smile on his face. “Is everything to your liking?” he asked.

Hugh nodded as he said, “It’s excellent, thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the server replied. “Would you two care for any dessert?”

Hugh looked over at Paul, deciding to let him answer for them. “Yes,” Paul said immediately, “I believe the,” he met Hugh’s eyes for a moment, “crème brûlée would be a good choice.”

“Would you like just one order of that?” the server asked, glancing at Hugh.

“Just one will be fine,” Hugh said. “That risotto was very filling.”

“Of course, sirs,” the server said, dipping his head a little. “I will return shortly, then,” he said before he stepped away.

“You can’t tell me you’re _not_ going to try some of the crème brûlée here,” Paul said as soon as the server was gone, an eyebrow lifted. “I’ve heard it’s the best on Earth.”

“I never said that,” Hugh said with a smile. “I’ll just steal some of yours. Unless you’re opposed, of course.”

Paul pursed his lips in thought as he looked at Hugh analytically. “I...suppose you could,” he said. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle something with sugar in it?”

Hugh widened his eyes, hoping the smile curving the corner of his lip didn’t give away the act as he leaned forward and said, voice lowered, “Do you mean to tell me it’s not an actual healthy dessert? How could you fool me like that, Paul?”

“I regret to inform you that most desserts tend to be not healthy,” Paul deadpanned. “You’ll simply have to get used to it; especially around me.”

Hugh sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Well,” he said, “if all I have to sacrifice is my 100-percent-vegetable diet to spend time with you, then that’s a fair trade.”

Paul took a sip of water before he said, “I might be wrong, but I do believe one must consume at least a fruit or two to live. Living off of only vegetables seems highly improbable.”

“Oops,” Hugh said, his smile widening. _Dammit._ “You caught me. Surprise, I’m a ghost, here to haunt you and give you various health-related tips.”

“Surprising indeed,” Paul said, his face still a blank slate, “since ghosts don’t exist, and if they did, I doubt they’d take a form capable of physical action.”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder, taking a sip from his glass of water. “Well, the guys upstairs said that you’d need a more hands-on approach. Don’t pretend you’re not grateful.”

Paul snorted as he rolled his eyes. “You’ll be waiting quite a while to hear the words ‘I’m grateful’ come from me.”

“Well, you _did_ just say them,” Hugh said with a playful smile, “so. Not that long.”

Paul scoffed. “Context always matters. That hardly counted.”

“It counted,” Hugh said. “And besides, I don’t need to _hear_ it to know you mean it.”

“Well,” Paul said, his index finger tapping against the edge of his water glass, “reading between the lines will only go so far. There’s no way to know if what you think is true or not.”

“I like to think I’m good at reading people,” Hugh said. “But you could always tell me,” he said with a wink. “That option isn’t ever ruled out.”

Paul huffed before he took a sip of water. “Just what I need,” he said, “someone who can read through the different versions of zero-expression I wear.” He looked back at Hugh. “That was sarcasm.”

Hugh laughed. “I know,” he said. “I’m getting better at it. It’ll take some time, but soon I’ll know you as well as Straal does.” He took a sip from his water, draining it.

“Please,” Paul scoffed, “I doubt you’d want to. Straal has seen me naked before, and that’s not a night I ever wish to repeat.” He paused, and Hugh felt his lips quirk up in a smile. Paul quickly added, his cheeks staining red, “Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like--I just meant, you know….”

Hugh tried to stifle his laugh, to help preserve Paul’s dignity. “We can save _that_ discussion for when we’re both ready for it,” he said, an easy grin still on his face.

Luckily for Paul, the server came up at that moment with the crème brûlée on a tray. “Here you are, sir,” the server said with a smile as he slid the crème brûlée--in a circular white dish--in front of Paul. “Will that be all?”

Paul nodded, his gaze riveted on the server. “Yes, thank you.”

The server dipped his head respectfully before he walked off. Hugh looked back at Paul, who’d already taken a large spoonful from the custard.

“Sheesh, save some for me,” Hugh laughed, picking up his own spoon. He leaned forward a little to carve a small piece from the side, sitting back down in his seat as he brought the spoon to his mouth.

Paul shrugged. “It’s a dessert for one, what did you expect? We could’ve gotten two.”

Hugh shrugged as well, humming a little at the explosion of flavor on his tongue. Yum. He hadn’t had crème brûlée before, but he decided he was a fan. “Two would’ve been too much,” he said once he slipped the spoon out of his mouth. “I just didn’t expect you to take half the dish in in one bite.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Paul huffed. “There’s more than half of it left. You just can’t see it from your angle.” He carved out another large piece.

“I see you’re a mushroom genius as well as an excavation king,” Hugh said, leaning forward to spoon out his own small piece. “This is really good, though; you were right.”

“Of course I was right,” Paul said immediately. “I’m always right.”

Hugh huffed out a laugh around his spoon. He swallowed the bite before he said, “I’m sure you are, dear.”

Hugh didn’t miss Paul freeze, but he didn’t say anything when Paul nodded, taking another spoonful of dessert and inhaling it through his mouth.

As Paul mulled over that piece of crème brûlée, Hugh leaned forward, scooping the rest of the dessert into his own spoon and slipping it into his mouth. _Sucker,_ he said in his mind as he gave Paul an impish smile around the spoon.

“Well, I suppose that settles it,” Paul grumbled, glancing between Hugh and the empty dish.

“Settles what?” Hugh asked innocently, setting his polished spoon on his plate.

“It’s gone,” Paul said as he pointed down at the dish with his spoon. “You stole the last of it.”

“Oh, really?” Hugh asked, smothering his playful smile. “I thought I couldn’t see the rest from my angle.”

Paul narrowed his eyes. “That’s why I told you. Now you know.”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Oops,” he said. “I guess now we’ll _have_ to go on a third date so I can make it up to you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really go on dates with thieves,” Paul said as he leaned back in his seat.

“It was for a good cause,” Hugh defended.

“And what cause is that?” Paul asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“The cause of my stomach,” Hugh said. “It liked the crème brûlée too much, unfortunately.”

“Well,” Paul said, “I suppose you will in fact have to make it up to me later.” He shot a glance around the restaurant. “And I believe it’s time for us to leave. Unless you want to stay and order another.”

Hugh shook his head. “It’s a tempting offer,” he said, “but I’d rather owe you one for a little bit.” He scooted his chair out from the table a little before he stood up, straightening his sleeves a little and making sure he hadn’t spilled anything on himself.

Paul stood as well as he said, “Most would consider owing someone something a bad thing, you know.”

Hugh shot Paul a smile as he pushed in his chair and said, “Since it’s you, I don’t mind as much. And it guarantees a nice date, so what’s there to worry about?”

Hugh fell into step next to Paul as he started to walk towards the exit. “I don’t know if ‘guarantee' is quite the word I would choose to use,” Paul said as he shook his head.

“Then what word would _you_ use, Mister Thesaurus?” Hugh asked, a smile teasing his lips.

“I would say it has no effect on the probability of the outcome,” Paul said, glancing up at Hugh.

“And why’s that, I wonder?” Hugh asked, returning Paul’s gaze.

“What makes you so sure it would make it favorable?” Paul asked. The host thanked him for coming, and he nodded in response.

“Well, spending any time with you is a plus,” Hugh reasoned, “and I’ll have to spend time with you to atone for stealing the last bite.”

“That does not guarantee that the time spent would be worthwhile,” Paul said. “Something can always go terribly wrong.” He slid his hands into his pockets; Hugh debated in his head for a moment before deciding it wouldn’t hurt to offer.

He held his hand out, palm-up, towards Paul. “Would you rather steal some of my heat instead?” he asked. “It’s free.”

Paul looked at Hugh’s hand silently for a moment or two before he pulled his hand out of his pocket and slid it into Hugh’s. “Well, I suppose if it’s free, I might as well,” he said, pointedly looking across the street.

Hugh couldn’t fight against the smile that overtook his face--not that he particularly wanted to. As Paul’s smooth (and rather cold) fingers interlaced with Hugh’s, he dropped their joined hands between them, absently rubbing his thumb over the back of Paul’s hand.

“That sounds like a sound business investment to me,” Hugh agreed.

“...Right,” Paul said with a slight nod, sliding his gaze to Hugh again. “Oh, where exactly are we going?”

Hugh blinked, glancing down the street. “I’m...not sure,” he laughed sheepishly, using his free hand to rub the back of his head. “I was following you.”

“Oh,” Paul said, looking down the street. “Well, it’s late in the night. As someone who wakes up at six in the morning, I’m sure you need to sleep. I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“I don’t know if I can wait until our next date to see you again,” Hugh said, heaving a great sigh. He was playing it off as a joke, but he really didn’t want the night to end quite yet. He liked talking to Paul about nothing in particular.

Paul rolled his eyes as he said, “Lucky for you, you only have to wait until Monday.”

“I _guess_ that’ll do,” Hugh said.

As they slowly ambled down the street, shoulders occasionally brushing against one another, Hugh heard Geraldo’s voice in his head (which was a scary thing in and of itself), urging him to bring up the boyfriend question. Hugh glanced uneasily at Paul, gnawing a little on his bottom lip. Was it too soon? He didn’t want to wait any longer, but...maybe it would’ve been better to bring it up early? There was no reason why Paul had to say yes right away, of course. Hugh tried to reassure himself by reminding himself that Paul would be honest, at the very least. _Oh, jeez, I’m gonna barf._

“So...Paul,” Hugh forced out, tongue as thick as cottonballs in his mouth. “I was...thinking. I like going out with you--and I hope you do, too. Uh, like going out with me, I mean.” He intended to keep going, but stopped for courtesy’s sake as he glanced at Paul, heat already beating at his cheeks.

“I do,” Paul said carefully, and Hugh could feel Paul’s analytical gaze on the side of his face. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well,” Hugh said slowly. “I was wondering--and you don’t have to give me an answer right away, you can take all the time you want,” he quickly rushed to say, meeting Paul’s eyes for a moment. “But, um, I was wondering if...you’d want to put a bit more of a permanent title on...this.” He wiggled their joined hands a little. “Going steady, or being boyfriends, or what have you.” He looked back at Paul, meeting his gaze.

Paul immediately stopped walking, staring at Hugh, and Hugh nearly stumbled to stop in time. Paul was silent, thoughts flying through his eyes, and Hugh was beginning to worry. Maybe it _was_ too soon? Hugh resisted the urge to tell Paul to forget about it as he waited for a response, still gnawing on his bottom lip.

Paul said slowly, voice halting, “Is that...what you want?”

Hugh let out a small laugh, looking away. It wasn’t a no, at least. “Well, I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t,” he said, before he met Paul’s eyes again. A small, comforting smile curved his lips as he said, “But--that shouldn’t have any impact on your answer. Like I said, take your time--I encourage it--or say no. Whatever you want.”

Paul was silent for another long moment, gaze searching, before he finally said, “I must admit, I believe I knew my answer the moment you sat down in front of me in the cafe.” A smile curved Paul’s mouth, and Hugh felt his heart squeeze at the sight. “Being...officially together does sound nice.”

“Great,” Hugh said, unable to hold back his relieved laugh. “I’m--glad to hear it. So glad.” He beamed at Paul for a moment before he said, “Then we’re boyfriends. I like the sound of that.”

Paul’s smile dimmed, only the ghost of it left. Hugh wanted to ask about it, but before he could, Paul said, “Me too. But...it _is_ rather cold.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “Perhaps we should...continue on?”

“Good idea,” Hugh said with a small laugh, gently tugging Paul’s hand to get him to start walking again. “We can’t have you freezing to death on day one.”

“Please,” Paul said, “it’s hardly cold enough to cause hypothermia, let alone death.”

“I guess we don’t have any reason to keep holding hands, then,” Hugh said, slowly starting to release Paul’s hand. “I--”

Paul tightened his fingers around Hugh’s, and Hugh couldn’t help but grin. “Stop being so insufferable,” Paul grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you didn’t want me to read between the lines?” Hugh asked, unable to resist the urge to tease Paul. “I’m starting to get some mixed messages here, Paul.”

“I believe I may have agreed to this a little too hastily,” Paul said, glancing up at Hugh. “I didn’t realize how much you’d start to tease me.”

Hugh let out a small giggle, rubbing the back of Paul’s hand with his thumb again. “Okay, okay,” he conceded. “I’ll stop. For tonight, anyway; Monday, though, will be fair game.”

Paul let out a small huff. “I knew saying yes to a thief would be a bad idea.”

“Hey, I’m not the only thief in this relationship,” Hugh defended.

“Oh?” Paul asked. They reached the front doors of Hugh’s building, and Paul pulled open the door with his free hand. “How am _I_ a thief, then?” he asked as Hugh made his way inside.

“You stole my heart~” Hugh said in a singsong voice,  grinning at Paul.

Paul scoffed and rolled his eyes as they made their way down the hall, but a light tint of pink covered his cheeks, too. “You’ve gone mad with power, I see.”

“Well, I _am_ crazy for you,” Hugh said. At Paul’s snort, Hugh let out a snicker. “Okay, sorry, I’ll stop.”

They continued down the hall in silence for a while. Their fingers were still interwoven, but when another cadet rounded the corner and started walking towards them, Paul slid his hand out of Hugh’s. When Hugh glanced at him, he saw Paul side-eying the cadet, a small frown on his face. Hugh decided he didn’t mind; Paul wasn’t a very public person to begin with, so it made sense that he wouldn’t be interested in PDA. Besides, Hugh felt like he was walking on clouds with how light with joy his heart was at that moment.

When they reached Hugh’s door, though, his spirits dampened a little. It felt too early for the date to end. He turned to face Paul, consoling himself with the thought that they’d see each other again on Monday.

“I had a great time tonight, Paul,” Hugh said with a smile. “Thank you.”

Paul gave him a small smile in return. “I also enjoyed myself,” he said.

Hugh continued smiling at Paul for a moment before he realized he had to say goodbye. He leaned out into the hallway a little, looking around to ensure the coast was clear--it was--before he took a small step closer to Paul. Hugh reached out and gently took Paul’s hand, before slowly--so Paul could pull his hand away at any moment--bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the knuckle.

Or that was the plan, anyway, but Paul pulled his hand away before Hugh could do so. Before Hugh could do anything--frown, apologize, or otherwise--Paul had taken a few steps back. “G-goodnight, Hugh,” he said. “It--it was a pleasure, to spend the night with you.” He quickly turned around and started to walk away.

 _Ah, shit._ Hugh watched after Paul, and went so far as to open his mouth to call after him, but no words escaped. He meant to apologize, but...he could do that later. He’d probably just spooked Paul--or maybe there’d been someone walking down at the end of the hall? He’d have to be more careful. He’d just felt like he’d been on top of the world.

Hugh let out a soft sigh before he stepped into his dorm. It’d been a great night, but he couldn’t wait to curl up in bed and--

“Tell me everything,” Geraldo said as soon as Hugh stepped through the door.

“No pleasantries?” Hugh asked, a grin quirking at the corner of his mouth as he looked at Geraldo, sitting on the couch. “Not even a hi?”

“I’ve been waiting for hours!” Geraldo said. “At least tell me if you brought up the boyfriend subject.”

Hugh hummed as he unbuttoned his cuffs, making his way to his room. “He took me to dinner,” he informed Geraldo.

“Where did you go?” Geraldo demanded, getting up to follow Hugh into his room. “Stop keeping the juicy details all to yourself!”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Just a place called...Lyron’s, I think?” he said.

“You’re shitting me!” Geraldo said. “You have to make reservations _months_ in advance for that place! How did he do that so fast?!”

Hugh stepped out of his shoes as he said nonchalantly, “His parents own some stock in it, so--”

“Shit, Hugh,” Geraldo interrupted. “Moneybags Stamets? You’d better work fast, or I’ll try snapping him up myself.”

Hugh snorted as he pulled off his shirt, throwing it down the laundry chute. “Hands off. You can stick to Straal and Ulua.”

“Ooh,” Geraldo said, “protective for someone who’s only been on two dates. Unless you two are actually an item, Stamets is still fair game.” Geraldo shrugged, leaning against the doorframe.

Hugh turned to face Geraldo, crossing his arms over his chest. He tried to fight the grin, but couldn’t keep it from stretching across his face as he said, “Maybe it’s time I told you about my boyfriend.”

“No fucking way,” Geraldo said immediately. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Hugh laughed. “I asked, and--”

“My baby boy!” Geraldo shouted, sprinting towards Hugh. Before Hugh could move out of the way, Geraldo’s arms were wrapped around him--crushing his chest--and picking him up off the ground. “I’m so PROUD!”

“Ger--!” Hugh coughed out, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “Let...go!”

Geraldo carefully set Hugh back down and stepped back as he said, “You’re getting shitfaced tonight.”

“I’m not getting shitfaced tonight,” Hugh said, clearing his throat. When the hell did Ger get such good arms?

“You’re drinking from a glass of juice and taking me through your date tonight as if I was actually there,” Geraldo tried again.

“I’m not doing that either,” Hugh said, then laughed. “Chill out, Ger.”

“Pleaaase,” Geraldo said. “I need _something_. When do I get to meet him?”

“If you haven’t met him by Christmas, we can work something out,” Hugh said, stepping over to his bedside table.

“Christmas?!” Geraldo groaned. “That’s not for another _year_ , Hugh!”

“Mhm,” Hugh hummed as he grabbed his PADD. He sat on his bed, scrolling through his messages until he found Paul’s name. The sooner he apologized for...whatever had happened in front of his door, the better. Probably.

Hugh worried his lower lip between his teeth, vaguely recognizing that Geraldo walked out of his room (complaining about something Hugh didn’t think to register at that moment), as he thought about what to say.

_Hey, sorry about what I did in front of my dorm! I was just too excited, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Please don’t hate me :(_

Hugh didn’t really think that Paul hated him, but...it would help to defuse the tension, probably. Hopefully. He sent the message before he could worry about it any more.

Hugh meant to wait for a response, but sleep dragged down at his eyelids. It was still relatively early, but...he wanted to ruminate on the night, he guessed. He managed to stay awake for about fifteen minutes before his body pulled him into dreamland.


	7. Chapter Seven

Hugh woke up to the computer blaring, “0600 reminder: jog.”

Before it could repeat, Hugh grumbled, “Thanks, computer.” He stretched himself out languidly, barely registering a weight on his chest. He frowned and glanced down at it, then quickly sat up once he realized it was his PADD. Shit, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Paul had responded the prior night. _There’s no need to worry. I apologize for overreacting. I could never hate you, Hugh._

Hugh read over the last line a few times, trying to tell himself his heart didn’t feel just a little bit more tender at the words.

He didn’t wait to respond. _Sorry!_ he typed, _I fell asleep. That’s a relief to hear, though! See you on Monday!_

Hugh pressed send before he realized how many exclamation marks he’d used. He grimaced a little, but tried not to sweat it as he stood up and got ready for his morning jog.

That Sunday was bland. Really, most of Hugh’s Sundays were bland, but that one felt even moreso somehow. After his run, he sequestered himself in his room to finish off some homework that was due that week--just some readings, and some research for his essay due at the end of the semester. About halfway through, Geraldo had insisted Hugh take a break, and they ended up watching a few movies together. By the time Hugh returned to his homework, it was already his usual bedtime. He managed to finish it within an hour, though, and get to sleep at a (somewhat) respectable time.

The following morning, Hugh actually managed to wake up before his alarm. He was confused as to why until he realized with a rush of energy that he’d get to see _his boyfriend_ in a few hours.

It still didn’t feel real; part of Hugh was utterly convinced that he’d dreamed the conversation, that once he saw Paul they’d be little more than friends-that-go-on-dates-sometimes again. During his run, he kept repeating the conversation in his head. The memory fueled him, giving him almost boundless amounts of energy, so he managed to finish his run in a little over half an hour.

The energy seemed to power him through his shower as well, since he finished a lot quicker than usual. He felt on top of the world as he pulled on his uniform and made his way down to the cafe. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d had a skip in his step, though he tried to walk normally.

Once Hugh stepped into the cafe, his eyes immediately landed on Paul--hunched over a little, nursing a mug of coffee, with a hard set to his jaw. _Uh-oh, someone’s in a bad mood._

Hugh tried to exude warmth once their gazes met, giving Paul a smile and a wave as he stepped up to the counter. He ordered his regular burrito and, once he had it, walked over to the booth Paul was in.

In a moment of impulse, Hugh slid into the seat next to Paul as he said, “Good morning, Paul.” He started to unwrap his burrito.

“Morning,” Paul grumbled as he took a sip from his mug. Oof, he sounded dead on his feet.

Hugh felt a frown tug the corner of his lips at the tone. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Paul nodded. “Fine,” he said, “just a little tired.”

“You look more than a little tired,” Hugh said. Paul was hunched over, his face fixed in a tired scowl--until he straightened up and wiped his face clean. “Don’t just hide what you’re feeling,” Hugh couldn’t help but say.

“You did the same thing at the hospital on Alpha Centauri,” Paul pointed out as he shrugged a little.

“That’s different,” Hugh said. “I was working.”

“Oh, perfect,” Paul said as a cunning smile slid across his face. “I was working while I didn’t sleep--mostly--therefore it counts.”

“It does not,” Hugh instinctively protested. “You could be sleeping right now, but instead you’re here. It’s different.”

Paul shrugged again, nonplussed. “I’ve gone longer without sleep. I’m not sure why I feel so tired.”

Hugh felt his frown strengthen, but he decided to let the question of sleep go--for the moment. “Have you eaten anything?” he asked, hoping that that would at least warrant a _yes_.

When Paul blinked, a thoughtful furrow appearing between his brows, Hugh felt his hopes fall. “...No,” Paul finally answered after a few moments.

“There’s your problem,” Hugh muttered with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Here.” He offered his half-unwrapped burrito to Paul. “I’ll get another one. You eat that one.”

Paul looked at the burrito with hesitation, and Hugh was worried he’d have to do more convincing. Paul took the burrito, though, with only a lofted brow and a quiet, “Alright.”

As Paul slowly unwrapped the burrito the rest of the way, Hugh watched him like a hawk. Paul eventually glanced up at him with a frown. “...What?”

“I’m waiting for you to start eating it,” Hugh answered.

Paul sighed, but didn’t otherwise respond before he took a bite out of the burrito. His nose wrinkled--maybe he didn’t like eggs? But he swallowed and asked, “Satisfied?”

Well, as long as he managed to eat, Hugh wouldn’t be too concerned--for the time being, anyway. He grinned as he stood up and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Hugh stepped over to the line, patiently waiting his turn. He glanced every so often over at Paul, and was pleased to see he was still eating the burrito. A fuzzy sense of pride bloomed in his chest as he ordered a second one.

As Hugh slid in next to Paul again, unwrapping the warm burrito, he asked, “Did you just forget to eat anything?”

Paul shrugged as he swallowed a bite. “I was busy,” he said. “There’s no time to eat when I’m working on papers.”

Hugh resisted the urge to snort. “You couldn’t spend five minutes asking your synthesizer that automatically makes food to make you a snack?”

Paul huffed a little, his gaze focused on his burrito. “I forgot,” he said. “It wasn’t important.”

Hugh felt a frown carve his face. Eating? Not important? “Now I’m going to have to text you at random times in the day asking you if you’ve had lunch,” he said as Paul picked up his cup of coffee. “You usually eat breakfast _before_ going to class, though, right?”

“I eat breakfast,” Paul said slowly. “...Eventually.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Paul!” Hugh scolded. How could he be so flippant with his own health?

Paul took a deep gulp from his coffee before he responded. “I barely manage to wake up before class starts,” he said, “let alone make food.”

“Is it safe to assume you have time to make a cup of coffee?” Hugh asked, lifting an eyebrow. He suddenly remembered his own burrito, and took a big bite out of it.

Paul took a bite out of his own burrito before he replied, “Coffee is the only thing keeping me alive in that class.”

Hugh was appalled. “You’re officially eating breakfast with me here every morning,” he said. “Or, at least, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“I’m not really a fan of burritos,” Paul said as he folded his empty wrapper.

Hugh resisted the urge to ask about the burrito Paul had just devoured, and instead replied with a grin, “Well, it’s a good thing they have an entire menu of items that _aren’t_ burritos,” as he gestured back to the menu.

Paul glanced at the menu, his nose wrinkling a little. “Perhaps,” he said before he drained his remaining coffee.

“I’m going to make you try every item on the menu until you find one you like,” Hugh claimed.

“Or I could stop showing up here,” Paul countered.

Hugh frowned, going for a kicked puppy look. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” he asked. “Then we wouldn’t see each other at all during the week.”

“I don’t know,” Paul said, a grin quirking his lips a little, “eating breakfast feels like a dealbreaker to me.”

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Hugh offered. He glanced down at Paul’s empty cup and added, “Next time. I doubt you need more coffee right now.”

Paul frowned, looking between Hugh and his empty mug before he sighed and looked down at his PADD. “Hugh, didn’t you want to get to your class early today, to prepare for your lab?”

Part of Hugh was flattered that Paul had remembered, but he glanced at the PADD as well-- _08:37_. Uh-oh.

“You’re right,” Hugh said as he stood up. “Sorry I have to cut this so short.” As he made his way to the door, he waved at Paul and said, “I’ll see you later, hun!”

Hugh finished off his burrito on the way to class, already not wanting to go. He wasn’t excited for his lab--he enjoyed the material, but spending three hours in one room just made him antsy.

By the time Hugh reached his classroom, he had a few minutes to spare. Paul had been in a bad mood--maybe if Hugh sent him encouraging messages, it’d help ease his day? Before Hugh could decide otherwise, he pulled out his PADD, quickly sending Paul a message.

_Good luck today! I hope things are working out for you! <3 _

He sent the message before he could second-guess the heart. Paul would probably need all the love Hugh could send his way, especially considering how determined he was to make himself suffer.

Before Hugh could start worrying about Paul’s dismal eating habits again, the professor walked in, eagerly beginning the lecture. She excitedly explained how labs would be working for the semester--nothing surprising, except for some “new technology” that Starfleet had finally okayed for use in the Academy. Hugh spent the rest of the period taking notes and barely paying attention; she often just repeated everything in the readings, though she did bring up some important points for tests and quizzes. Honestly, Hugh would’ve skipped the class or been late (to spend more time with Paul), but attendance was mandatory.

By the end of the class, Hugh was nearly in tears from boredom. He glanced at his PADD as he walked down the hall; no response from Paul, but that made sense, considering he was in a lab. Hugh decided to send another message, just in case Paul was reading them without replying.

_Call me if you need to rant about anything! Or text me. I’ll be here for you!_

Hugh nearly ran into a wall as he typed out the message, but he managed to save himself and press the send button before he hurt himself too badly.

Paul didn’t respond in the ten minutes it took Hugh to get to his next class (xenobioethics). That class was usually interesting, but the whole period was spent reviewing the material that would be on the first exam. Hugh personally didn’t have any problems with the concepts and theories, but he was still attentive.

Hugh didn’t check for any messages at the end of the class; his lab was a moderate distance away, and Hugh only had five minutes to get there. He didn’t really want to sprint, so he just focused on powerwalking over. Once he reached the lab, however, he saw a paper that read _LAB CANCELLED_ on the door. Hugh blinked at it, thinking it’d fade into nothingness, before he snickered and pulled out his PADD to notify Paul.

_Update: my 3-hour lab was cancelled and I’ve never had so much freetime. What do I even do now? I hope things are starting to look up on your end!_

Hugh also took a picture of the sign and sent it to Geraldo without a word. Geraldo’s response, surprisingly, was instantaneous.

_LUCKY BITCH!!_

Hugh snorted before he typed his own reply.

_Aren’t you in class?_

_Im skipping,_ was Geraldo’s response. _I deserve this._ Hugh rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Geraldo quickly sent, _Hey get froyo with me._

 _Froyo? With a hooligan?_ Hugh sent back, though he started making his way towards their dorm.

_Please we havent been on a date in forever :(((_

Hugh stifled a laugh at that. _You know I’m a taken man now, Ger._

_HUGH :((( I WANT FROYO!!!_

_I hope you know I’m not paying for you._

_But thats a yes >:))) _

Hugh tried to smother his grin. _I’ll meet you at the dorm._

_THATS MY BOY!!!_

Hugh made it to the dorm relatively quickly. Geraldo almost didn’t wait for Hugh to put his things in his room before he was trying to pull Hugh out of the dorm. Honestly, Hugh wasn’t sure where Geraldo got all his energy from.

Geraldo didn’t take them to the frozen yogurt place around the corner, unfortunately. He pulled Hugh all the way to the third floor of the library on the very edge of campus, where the tiniest little frozen yogurt shop (called “GoFro”) was located. Geraldo insisted it was less busy, and the food tasted better.

Hugh couldn’t vouch for the taste, but the shop itself _was_ nearly empty. He and Geraldo managed to snag one of the four tables in the shop--which really wasn’t all that big of a feat, considering the only other person in the shop was the cashier-slash-server. It had an old time-y aesthetic, with black-and-white tiled flooring, booths with red pleather seats, and...was that a jukebox? Considering the shop was empty and specialized in serving sugary treats, Hugh decided to bring Paul by sometime (sans Geraldo, of course).

After Hugh tried one spoonful of his “orange dreamsicle” frozen yogurt, he pulled out his PADD to check for any messages (there weren’t any responses from Paul yet).

“Already running to the other man,” Geraldo sighed dramatically, waving a spoonful of his own neon green yogurt in the air. Hugh didn’t want to know what flavor it was.

“In this scenario, _you_ would be the other man,” Hugh snorted, glancing up at Geraldo as he sliced his spoon into his creamy orange yogurt.

“I can’t believe I was demoted,” Geraldo grumbled before he slipped his spoon into his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Hugh mumbled as he typed a message out on his PADD for Paul. “You’re still number one for roommate.”

Before he sent it, Hugh looked over the message. _Update 2: I splurged and got frozen yogurt. We should get some together sometime :)!_

“You’re not even listening to me,” Geraldo lamented, pulling Hugh out of his thoughts.

“What?” Hugh asked, quickly sending the message and looking up at Geraldo. “Sorry, I--”

“No,” Geraldo sighed heavily, “it’s fine, I understand. I’m second fiddle now.”

Hugh snorted. “You wanted this.”

Geraldo gave him a mischievous grin. “I know,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not all mopey anymore.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “I was never _mopey_.”

“You were the mopiest,” Geraldo argued. “You only ever came out of your room to go to work.”

“Because I was working sixteen-hour shifts and needed to sleep,” Hugh defended.

Geraldo waved his spoon dismissively. “Details,” he said. “Point is, I’m happy for you.” He quickly spooned some frozen yogurt into his mouth, then said around it, “I’d be happier if I could _meet_ the guy, but….”

Hugh snorted. “Like I said: Christmas.” He spooned some yogurt into his mouth.

Geraldo groaned and leaned back in his seat. “You’re the worst. I hate you.”

Hugh laughed. “This _is_ a nice place though, I’ll give you that,” he said, glancing around the small shop.

“I know the best places to go,” Geraldo said, puffing himself up a little as he took another spoonful of frozen yogurt. “If you ever need a date idea, just let me know.”

Hugh snorted. “Sure,” he said. “I don’t think your dates are really Paul’s speed, but thanks.”

Geraldo scoffed. “My dates are fun as hell and Sleeping Beauty would have a great time,” he said, then grinned. “Especially if he was with you.”

Hugh rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond as his PADD lit up with a message. Hugh swiped into it, feeling a smile tug at his mouth once he saw Paul’s name.

_Is this your way of asking me on another date?_

Geraldo sighed dramatically. “I’m a third wheel and the second wheel isn’t even _here_.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Hugh snickered, pushing his container of frozen yogurt towards Geraldo as he typed a response with one hand. “Try some of mine.”

Geraldo grumbled discontentedly as he spooned some of Hugh’s frozen yogurt to his mouth.

 _Well,_ Hugh responded, _I was planning on showing up at your doorstep with 50 roses and a musical ensemble, but this will have to do. How was your lab?_

“This is good,” Geraldo said, pulling Hugh’s frozen yogurt closer to him.

“I didn’t say you could steal it,” Hugh laughed, trying to tug his cup back.

“Try and stop me,” Geraldo challenged, meeting Hugh’s gaze fearlessly.

Hugh meant to keep up the fight, but his PADD lit up with another message. He glanced down at it uncertainly, then back up at Geraldo, before he sighed and pulled his hands away from his cup. “Fine, you can have it,” he said as he looked at Paul’s message.

_Are you busy currently?_

Hugh felt his heart leap with optimism as he quickly typed back, completely blocking out Geraldo. _No, why?_

Paul didn’t respond right away. Hugh looked up at Geraldo, a small sense of guilt crawling into his chest. “Uh,” he said, “I may have to go, Ger. Is that alright?”

Ger blinked at Hugh. “Only if it’s because of Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “And only if it’s so you two can have a date.”

Hugh’s PADD lit up again, and he had to smother the smile as he read Paul’s message: _Let’s get lunch._

“Good instincts,” Hugh said with a laugh, grabbing his PADD as he stood up, already typing a response. _Definitely! :) Where can I find you?_ “Thanks, Ger.”

“Wait!” Geraldo cried, and Hugh looked up at him, already oriented towards the door. “What do I do with all this froyo?” he asked, gesturing helplessly at both half-full cups in front of him.

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “You should’ve thought of that before you stole mine,” he said, making his way to the door as he waved at Geraldo. “‘Bye, Ger!”

“You’re cruel!” Geraldo shouted after Hugh as the door swung shut behind him. When he glanced down at his PADD, he saw another message from Paul. _Outside Science 52._

Hugh resisted the urge to groan, shoving his PADD in his bag. Science 52 was far. He wasn’t sure how long of a break Paul had, and Hugh didn’t want to keep him waiting. He intended to keep his pace at a steady, rapid walk, but eventually, the excitement of getting to see Paul infected his legs, making him all but sprint towards Science 52.

Within a few minutes of commuting, Hugh saw Paul sitting on a bench right where he’d said he’d be. He was frowning down at his PADD, a concerned furrow between his brows as he tapped at the edge of his PADD with two fingers.

“Paul!” Hugh shouted. Paul looked up, eyes wide, though once his gaze landed on Hugh, his face cleared up. Hugh made sure to grin and wave at him as he made his way over.

Paul stood up once Hugh was closer. “Hello, Hugh.”

“Hey!” Hugh said, a breezy smile on his face as he stopped next to Paul. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “What a coincidence. I never would have expected you.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “Where did you come from, to get here so quickly?”

 _Uh-oh._ “The library,” Hugh said with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s not that far.”

“The library is halfway across campus,” Paul slowly said, a slight frown on his face. “Are you telling me you _ran_ over here in less than five minutes?”

Hugh felt warm embarrassment in his chest, and he reached up to scratch the back of his head. “It’s not that far,” he repeated, though with much less conviction.

“It’s 1.27 kilometers,” Paul said, shock evident in his voice. “You ran that casually?”

Hugh resisted the instinctive response-- _I’d run a lot farther for you_ \--as he nodded. “Yeah, I run a 5k every morning.”

Paul shook his head, and Hugh could hear him quietly mutter, “Horrifying.” Hugh smothered his laugh as Paul asked, “Alright, where should we go?”

Hugh shrugged. “I’m okay with any place,” he said. “I’m not super hungry, so….”

Paul frowned at him, and Hugh scrambled for a way to make the frown disappear. “Then why did you agree to get lunch with me?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with you,” Hugh replied easily, adding a mental _duh_.

Paul was silent for a few moments, staring at Hugh, before he finally said, “Well...then we can go to the library or something.”

Hugh frowned. “ _You_ need to eat lunch.”

“You’re not working, you know,” Paul said with a roll of his eyes. “You can stop doctoring.”

Hugh frowned further. “I can’t just stop doctoring,” he protested. “You just told me you forgot to eat for at least 15 hours. That’s worrisome!”

“Please,” Paul scoffed, “I’ve gone longer.”

“And _that_ is exactly why I need to keep doctoring,” Hugh said, his frown easing into a smile. There was no way Paul could argue against that. “Where do you want to get lunch?”

“I’ve never met someone just as stubborn as I am,” Paul sighed.

“I’m only this stubborn when my boyfriend refuses to eat lunch,” Hugh said, trying to ignore the rush of warmth the words _my boyfriend_ sent through him. _Get it together, Culber, he needs help._

As he crossed his arms, Paul scoffed, “I am not refusing to eat lunch--”

“Great!” Hugh interrupted, his smile widening. “Then where do you want to go?”

Paul narrowed his eyes at Hugh, and Hugh had to resist the urge to laugh. _Cute._ “Fine,” Paul sighed. “Let’s go to Vigi’s.”

Hugh nodded. “Works for me.”

“Let’s go,” Paul said as he turned and walked off, “before you feel the need to inflict me with another health tip.”

Hugh fell in step beside Paul. “I can walk and give you health tips,” he said. “It’s the best of both worlds.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Paul said. “I’m perfectly fine living as unhealthily as possible.”

Hugh had a flashback to Paul’s vitals while he was in the hospital. “Please, that’s so bad for you.”

Paul nodded. “One might even say it’s unhealthy.”

Hugh sighed, proud of himself for managing to keep up the deadpan expression despite the desire to laugh. Maybe he was learning from Paul--and maybe Paul was learning from him, he thought when he caught sight of a small smile on Paul’s face.

“Hey, Stamets!” a voice said, pulling Hugh from his thoughts. When he looked, he saw a shorter cadet making his way over to them. They stopped in front of Paul, making Paul stop--which made Hugh stop, too.

Paul sighed. “What do you want?” he asked the cadet.

The cadet glanced uneasily at Hugh. Hugh gave them a polite grin, and the cadet focused on Paul, a smile crossing their face. “I was wondering if you could help me with our bioengineering course. I talked to the professor, and--”

“No,” Paul interrupted. Hugh lifted a brow, glancing at Paul. “I’m busy.”

The cadet’s smile fell. “All the time?”

“Yes,” Paul sighed. There was an awkward silence as the cadet stared at Paul. Hugh might’ve said something, but...it really wasn’t his place, and he didn’t _really_ want Paul to ditch him. Once the cadet walked away, it’d probably be fine--

Paul waved his hand at the cadet. “Go,” he said. “Leave. I don’t care about you.” _Oh, shit._

The cadet scowled in anger. “Fuck you,” they snapped, before they turned on their heel and stormed away.

Paul sighed, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Idiot,” he muttered.

Hugh couldn’t keep the frown off his face. “That was a bit harsh, Paul.”

Paul glanced at Hugh. “If they can’t pass this class, they’re not meant to be here,” he said. “They should be able to learn the material on their own.”

 _Ouch._ “What if I asked you for help in something?”

Paul hesitated before he muttered, “That’s different.” He started walking again.

Hugh jumped a little to walk next to Paul again. “So you’d help me, but not another classmate?”

Their arms brushed together, but Paul pulled his arm closer to himself after the second or third time it happened. “Yes.”

Hugh frowned at the motion--maybe he was making Paul angry? “That sounds a bit biased,” he said, trying to not sound too accusatory.

“It _is_ biased,” Paul huffed. “I’m not a doctor, I’m allowed to be biased.”

Their conversation was put on hold when Paul’s PADD started ringing from his bag. He stopped walking to fish for the PADD, and Hugh stopped next to him. Paul sighed as he accepted the call, and immediately asked, “What do you want, Straal?”

“There’s been a radiation leak in the bio lab,” Straal’s voice said. “It was quarantined off before I could get to it, but all of the specimens we stored there have most likely been damaged too far to repair.” Straal sighed. “Where’s your man? Since I’m sure you’re with Prince Charming--”

“ _Straal_ ,” Paul hissed, and Hugh couldn’t keep the chuckle out of his mouth.

“--and they’ve done a call out for upper division med track students. If he’s done his radiation certification, he’ll probably be getting a call any second.”

Hugh’s PADD let out an angry chirp then. Hugh pulled it out, glancing over the emergency notification--Straal’s information checked out. Hugh was being asked to go to the bio labs building to help with an emergency radiation leak.

He looked apologetically at Paul. “I’ll have to take a rain check on our lunch date.” He hesitated--he wanted to give a proper goodbye, but in the middle of a high-traffic area? He knew Paul wouldn’t have gone for much in that situation, so a hug was probably out of the question. Hugh decided on gently squeezing Paul’s shoulder. “I’ll call you later, hun.”

Paul blinked at Hugh. He was silent for a beat, then two--had Hugh done something wrong? Was the shoulder squeeze too much? Paul quickly nodded, though, and said, “Yes, right. Alright.”

“I’ll make it up later,” Hugh promised a second before his PADD let out another angry chirp. He grimaced, glancing down at the second notification. “Gotta go, bye!” He gave Paul a smile and a wave before he turned towards the bio labs. Once he was halfway there, though, he wrestled his PADD out from his bag to send a quick message to Paul: _This isn’t an excuse to skip out on lunch. You better still be eating._

Hugh tried not to let guilt sour his expression as he worked at the biolabs; he’d make it up, after all.

✩✭✩

Unfortunately, Hugh couldn’t find time to make it up (outside of their nearly-daily morning meetups at the cafe). Paul seemed busy, too, especially after the leak in the biolabs. Hugh was afraid Paul would run himself ragged, so he tried to fulfill at least _one_ of his promises: making Paul try more things on the menu. Paul, unsurprisingly, preferred sweet dishes to savory ones, but Hugh found a good compromise wherever fruits (particularly strawberries and bananas) were involved.

Hugh’s alarm woke him up at 0600 sharp for his jog Friday morning. He was looking forward to a regular day (particularly with seeing Paul) until he stepped out of his room and his eyes landed on Geraldo, standing in the kitchenette and leaning on the counter, looking disinterestedly down at his PADD.

“Morning, Hugh,” Geraldo said, glancing up at him.

Hugh blinked, realizing he’d frozen in his doorway. “Hi…?” he said, trying hard to keep the confusion out of his voice. “Why are _you_ up so early?”

Geraldo shrugged a shoulder, looking up at Hugh fully. “Oh, you know,” he said. “Making plans. Hey, you might wanna steer clear of the dorm tomorrow.”

“ _Our_ dorm?” Hugh asked. At Geraldo’s nod, he asked, “Why?”

“To be a good roomie,” Geraldo said, then gave a lecherous smirk. “And like I said--I have _plans_.”

Hugh blinked, confused for a moment, before the insinuation made itself known in his head. He grimaced, shaking his head and moving to the front door. “You need to make better excuses for when you’re having someone over.”

Geraldo laughed. “You got what I meant, though!”

“When should I be evacuated by?” Hugh asked, looking over his shoulder as he stood at the door. “You won’t be taking the whole day, will you?”

“I dunno,” Geraldo said, his grin still on his face. “Maybe. You’d better get out of here early, just in case.”

“Please don’t tell me they’re spending the night,” Hugh said.

“Mmm,” Geraldo hummed, leaning on his elbow. “How about I’ll keep you posted?”

“You’re outrageous,” Hugh said. “I can’t believe this.”

“I mean,” Geraldo wheedled, “you _could_ always stay, but you know how loud I--”

“I gotta go,” Hugh said, quickly sliding the door open and stepping through. “‘Bye.”

Geraldo’s laughter followed Hugh out into the hallway before the door slid shut behind him. During his jog, Hugh tried to think of things he’d be able to do that Saturday to keep him out of the dorm. A date with Paul, maybe? That’d keep him busy for a few hours, probably, and then he could go to the library to do his homework. If Geraldo still wasn’t done, then Hugh would have to face the music (with headphones).

When Hugh returned to the dorm, Geraldo was nowhere to be seen--probably asleep. Hugh showered quickly before he made his way to the cafe, a spring in his step as he considered what he and Paul could do. Maybe a movie? There was one that recently came out that Hugh sort of wanted to see--but what sorts of movies did Paul like? Hugh didn’t want to make Paul sit through a few hours of a genre he disliked.

When Hugh reached the cafe, his eyes zeroed in on Paul in their booth, nibbling on a banana. Hugh ordered his usual burrito before he moseyed on over to Paul, sliding in next to him.

“You know,” Hugh said, a teasing smile playing at his lips, “I don’t think just a banana counts as breakfast, either.” Really, he was glad to see Paul eating something without Hugh’s insistence--though he could do better.

“Three bananas, actually,” Paul said, motioning to two other bananas on the table in front of him.

“Wow, Paul,” Hugh said, forcing himself to keep a straight face. “That’s...bananas.”

Hugh’s face nearly cracked at Paul’s dry glance. “You’re insufferable,” Paul grumbled before he took a bite from his banana.

Hugh couldn’t prevent his snicker as he said, “You’re berry right.” He started to unwrap his burrito. “Get it? Because a banana is a berry, and--”

“I get it,” Paul interrupted, his eyes rolling. “Don’t elaborate.”

Hugh laughed before he took a bite of his burrito. “So,” he said, “I was wondering...are you busy tomorrow?”

“Moderately,” Paul said, setting his peel down and picking up the second one. As he peeled it, he continued, “With the damage to the biolabs, the experiments Straal and I were running with Kaul can’t happen anymore. So I’m going to create a report, explaining in the _simplest_ language possible, about what happened and why Straal and I should get our own lab, as we’re completely qualified to be officers in everything but age.”

“Oh,” Hugh said. Then he wouldn’t be able to go on a date with Paul. He tried not to be too disappointed; Paul would need to continue his work as soon as possible, probably. “That’s important, then.”

Paul nodded. His PADD pinged with a message, and he swiped into it. He started tapping at it quickly. Hugh took another bite from his burrito as Paul continued to tap out messages. Hugh considered continuing their conversation, but Paul’s furrowed brows said that he was concentrating very hard.

When Paul’s lips pulled down in a scowl and he dropped the PADD on the table, Hugh asked, “Is everything alright?”

“I hate Straal,” Paul seethed, reaching up a hand to rub at his forehead. “He’s delaying our entire project for his own selfish needs.”

“What did he say?”

“He changed his plans for tomorrow,” Paul said as he leaned back in his seat and chomped down on his banana. “Now he refuses to work, and I’ll have to finish every report by myself.”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” Hugh said immediately, a frown curving his mouth. “It’s important to take a break every now and again.”

Paul shrugged. “It’s not that much of a further stretch from what I usually do,” he said. He took another bite from his banana. “I just won’t have Straal helping me this time.”

“Well, I _do_ understand biology,” Hugh said. “Maybe I could help you out?” He wouldn’t be doing anything the following day--especially not with Geraldo claiming their dorm. “Plus, Ger is...going to be busy in our dorm, and I’d rather not be there while he is.”

Hugh could see the resistance in Paul’s eyes. He was ready to defend himself, before Paul sighed. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason,” he said, and Hugh had to resist the urge to blink in surprise. “I’m not exactly pleasant to be around while I’m working,” he said (almost apologetically, if Hugh didn’t know any better). He bit the rest of the banana, and added, “Or in general.”

“That’s not true!” Hugh blurted. “I love spending time with you.”

“You are the singular exception in this world,” Paul said as he set down the empty banana peel and reached for the third banana.

“You have Straal,” Hugh said, “and your parents, I’m sure.”

Paul grimaced deeply, though the expression was wiped away in a moment. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?” he asked, before biting into his banana. “I’m getting a sense of deja vu.”

“You keep putting yourself down,” Hugh said. “I won’t stand for that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re sitting down, then,” Paul said, glancing up at Hugh.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Hugh said. Finished with his burrito, he started to fold the wrapper as he said, “You should see all the fantastic things about yourself that I do.”

“I know that I’m a genius and incredibly talented,” Paul said. “That doesn’t make me enjoyable to be around.”

“Those aren’t the only qualities you have,” Hugh protested. “You’re incredibly honest, and determined--even though you use that in the wrong way sometimes,” Hugh said. “But still! All admirable traits.”

Paul rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his banana, but Hugh didn’t miss the light tint of pink on his cheeks--success. “I suppose,” he grumbled. He was silent for another beat before he swallowed his banana. “Then if you’d truly like to, you can come over on Saturday. I’m sure Straal will be leaving in the morning, so you can come at any time.”

Hugh felt his face light up in a smile; he would be having a date with Paul after all, then. Fantastic. “Well, I wake up at 0600, so I doubt you’d want me knocking on your door then.”

Paul shrugged. “I’ll be awake,” he said. “It wouldn’t bother me.”

Hugh felt his smile melt off his face. “Please tell me you’ll sleep tonight.”

Paul pursed his lips. “I’ve been told I’m a terrible liar, so I don’t think I can tell you that,” he said as he dropped his last banana peel onto the pile.

“You’ll be working hard tomorrow,” Hugh insisted. “You’ll need your sleep.”

“I’ve done this before, Hugh,” Paul said. “I’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“Don’t you have class?” Paul asked abruptly. “You don’t want to be late.”

Hugh reached over to activate Paul’s PADD and glance at the time: _0831_. He frowned. “Okay, you’re right,” he sighed as he stood, “but this discussion isn’t over.” He picked up his wrapper and Paul’s banana peels.

“Of course not,” Paul said.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Hugh said, giving Paul a small smile as he walked off, dumping the trash in a nearby can. Paul returned the smile with a nod.

As Hugh made his way to class, he thought about what he and Paul would be able to do together that Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'd like to apologize for the (shorter) off-schedule updates; my partner and I have caught up with the story we'd written before beginning to post, so updates will be taking a bit longer than they have been. 
> 
> Thank you all for the great comments and kudoses! Every single one gives me motivation and keeps me going! (:
> 
> Have a good week!


	8. Chapter Eight

The day went by far too slowly. Throughout all his classes, Hugh was too preoccupied with what he could do at Paul’s to pay attention. He’d probably work on a few of his projects he needed to make some headway on; he always intended to do them at his own dorm, but as soon as he sat on his bed, he was out like a light. He knew that he’d promised Paul he’d help with his reports, but...it was Paul. He probably wouldn’t need much help, and even more probably wouldn’t ask for it.

Halfway through his last class, it occurred to Hugh that Saturday would be the first time he’d be with Paul in his dorm when he wasn’t under the influence of any substances. That thought alone nearly made Hugh’s heart stop with excitement, though he knew he’d keep it slow--for Paul’s sake. Still, though, the last time he’d been in Paul’s dorm played on a loop in his head after that. Paul had asked Hugh to stay the night with him; maybe Hugh would be able to make good on his promise.

Hugh had trouble falling asleep that night, far more excited for Saturday than he should’ve been. When he woke up, though--at 0600 sharply, thanks to the computer--he didn’t feel tired at all. He was ready to do anything; he felt ready to wrestle a mountain lion during his jog (which accidentally turned into a sprint when he wasn’t regulating himself carefully).

When Hugh got back to his dorm (at around 0745), he sent Paul a message that said, _Hey Paul! Do you think it’d be okay if I came over at 9?_ He knew that Paul had invited him over, but he didn’t want to just sneak up on the poor guy--especially not in the morning hours.

Unfortunately, by the time Hugh stepped out of the shower at 0825, Paul still hadn’t responded. Geraldo was dashing madly around the apartment, cleaning it for his paramour’s arrival. Hugh brewed a cup of tea, his PADD sitting on the counter, as he watched Geraldo run around.

“Why didn’t I vacuum last night?” Geraldo shouted over the roaring of the vacuum. “Stupid me!”

“I really don’t think they’ll be looking at the dorm, Ger,” Hugh said, though he couldn’t say he wasn’t amused. “You don’t have to--”

“Do you know how much of a turn-off a messy room is, Hugh?” Geraldo asked loudly. “It’s awful. And if the room _smells_ bad? You can kiss your boner goodbye!”

“It doesn’t even smell bad,” Hugh laughed lightly. “What are you talking abou--”

“To _us_ , maybe,” Geraldo said, turning off the vacuum as he looked around the floor, “because we’re used to the filth we live in. But to a visitor to our home?” He looked up at Hugh, shaking his head. “It must be awful.”

“You’re definitely overreacting,” Hugh chuckled. He reached over to grab his steaming cup of tea, looking at it critically before stirring in a spoonful of honey.

“Hey, I just want this to go as smoothly as possible,” Geraldo said. His voice adopted a sultry tone as he added, “Even if we’ll have lube--”

“Please stop there,” Hugh said as he scrunched his nose up in disgust, shooting a glare over at Ger. “I don’t want details.”

“That was just a joke!” Geraldo protested. “No details at all.”

“It would’ve given me a mental image,” Hugh said before he took a sip from his tea. “I don’t need that.”

Geraldo grumbled as he rolled the vacuum back to the closet, but Hugh couldn’t hear what he was saying. After the vacuum was safely stored away, Geraldo asked, “Computer, what time is it?”

“It is currently 08:40,” the computer calmly replied.

“Why are you still here?” Geraldo asked, looking at Hugh. “He’s about to get here. Maybe.”

“What time is he supposed to be here?” Hugh asked, sipping at his tea again. “I’m waiting for my safe haven to give me the all-clear.”

“He said nine,” Geraldo sighed, then furrowed his brows. “Wait, safe haven? Where are _you_ going?”

Hugh shrugged nonchalantly. “Paul’s.” He sipped from his cup.

“Ooh, good,” Geraldo said, a wicked smile curving across his mouth. “Maybe we’ll both get to have some fun today, huh?”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “Keep focusing on your own escapade, thanks.”

“You’re right,” Geraldo said, making his way to the counter to lean against it. “What haven’t I cleaned yet?”

“When did you last shower?” Hugh asked.

Geraldo snorted. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?” he replied. “I showered while you were working out.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ where all the hot water went,” Hugh said. “Interesting.” He sipped again from his tea.

“Don’t act like you don’t steal all the hot water too,” Geraldo said, pointing an accusatory finger at Hugh. “Every morning I get up and--”

He stopped talking once the clear sound of the doorbell rang through the air. Hugh blinked, glancing over at the front door. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

“There’s no way that’s him already,” Geraldo said, making his way to the front door. “He’s never this ea--hrk!”

Geraldo cut off as the door opened and a body launched itself onto him, their lips meeting. Hugh blinked, watching the pair as the mystery man--why did that black hair look familiar?--pushed Geraldo into the apartment, whirling them around to press Geraldo into the wall next to the door.

They continued to press needily into one another until Geraldo’s face surfaced from above the stranger’s shoulder as he gasped, “Wait a sec, Straal.”

 _Oh._ That’s why the hair looked so familiar. Hugh tried not to look too shellshocked as Straal groaned, “I waited a whole _day_ for this, and now you’re--”

“Hugh’s still here,” Geraldo interrupted, laughter in his breathless voice.

Straal’s head whipped around to look at Hugh over his shoulder. Hugh lifted his teacup in a greeting. “Hey.”

“Good job lurking,” Straal said, though he kept Geraldo pressed against the wall. “Tell Stamets I said hey, and not to wait up.”

Hugh furrowed his brow. “How did you--”

“Please,” Straal said. “What else were you gonna do? Stamets is obsessed with his work, but he’s not about to turn his man away when he’s in need.”

“Speaking of in need,” Geraldo piped up, “can we get moving?”

“Just a sec,” Straal said, glancing back for a second at Geraldo. “I wanna know what _Doctor_ Culber is doing with Stamets first.”

Hugh frowned a little at Straal’s emphasis on _doctor_. It was a little condescending, honestly. Hugh shrugged a shoulder as a response, though, and said, “We’ll see. I’m just planning on working on a project as of right now.”

Straal groaned loudly. “Ugh, you’re as bad as him. Come on, you have him _all alone_ in a dorm and you’re not planning a single move?”

“Oh, infiltrate someone’s living area to have sex with their roommate all day?” Hugh asked, lofting a brow. “Who would do that?” He sipped at his tea.

“Ooh, the doctor can dish it out!” Straal said, a delighted grin overtaking his face. “Too bad for Paul that he can’t dish out the good stuff, too.” He punctuated that by rolling his hips, and Hugh had to resist the powerful grimace when Geraldo buried his face in Straal’s neck, probably to kiss it.

 _I have to get out of here._ “I’ll leave that to you and Ger,” Hugh said, setting his cup down as he grabbed his PADD and his bag.

“Aw, c’mon,” Straal said. “If you haven’t left by now, maybe you want to join--”

“No,” Geraldo said immediately, a wet smacking noise preceding him as he drew away from Straal’s neck. “Hugh is banned.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes anyway,” Hugh said, trying to tiptoe past the pair--still pressed against the wall--and through the door. “Please keep it to the bedroom.”

“No promises!” Geraldo called right before the door slid shut, shutting Hugh off from the apartment. Hugh let out a sigh of relief--until he heard Geraldo’s muffled, loud moan, and then he quickly scurried away.

He had no idea where to go, so he considered what to do as he moseyed aimlessly through the dormitories. The library? He’d be able to work there, at the very least, until Paul responded. _If_ he responded. Hugh checked his PADD constantly, but there was still no response. Maybe Paul was asleep? That’s what Hugh was hoping, at the very least; the alternative was Paul being hard at work, which he likely would’ve been doing all night.

Hugh toyed with the idea of just showing up anyway. It wasn’t like Paul wasn’t expecting him, right? He’d already given Hugh permission to go, hadn’t he? But Hugh still felt a little guilty at the thought of showing up out of the blue, especially if Paul really was asleep.

When Hugh found himself in front of the library, his PADD let out a happy ding. He nearly dropped it in his hurry to wrestle it out of his bag and check the message. When he saw it was from Paul, his heart skipped a beat.

_Sorry, lost track of time. Yes, that will be fine._

Hugh couldn’t keep the smile from breaking his face. He sent a short affirmation ( _On my way!_ ) before he briskly started off towards Paul’s dorm.

Once he was standing at the front door, Hugh glanced at the time on his PADD-- _09:33_. Well, at least he finally made it; he knocked on the door, trying to keep from bouncing on his toes.

Paul answered immediately, wearing a cozy-looking sweater. “Hi, Hugh,” he said, though he immediately looked a little pained.

Hugh couldn’t keep from beaming at Paul, despite the pained expression. “Hi, Paul. Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, right, of course,” Paul quickly said, stepping to the side. “Sorry.” As Hugh entered the dorm, Paul continued, “I still have work I need to do, so I’ll be busy for...a while.”

Hugh pat his bag as he said, “I brought the report I have to work on anyway, so no worries.”

Paul nodded. “Right, okay.” He shifted a little on his feet as he said, “You can sit...anywhere, I suppose. I’ll just be with my mushrooms.”

Hugh tried not to grin at how _Paul_ that sounded, and instead nodded at him. Paul nodded in return before he stepped through a doorway in the back wall--a dimly-lit study, it looked like.

Hugh glanced around before he followed after Paul. Luckily, there was another desk in the study (probably for Straal--Hugh tried not to shudder as he thought about what Straal and Geraldo were doing). There were various potted mushrooms sitting around the dark room, which probably explained the earthy smell.

Hugh settled as quietly as he could at the desk, not wanting to disturb Paul. For the first few minutes, he couldn’t keep from glancing up at Paul every few minutes--the furrow in his brows, his alabaster fingers typing away, the soft blue light of the monitor making his eyes glow--but Hugh forced himself to focus on his own work. He’d have the whole day to ogle at Paul, after all.

Hugh had barely gotten started when he realized that the numbers he had didn’t make any sense at all. When they’d lowered the temperature of the solution, the precipitate should have appeared more slowly--but according to his numbers, the exact opposite had happened. He’d left his lab partner in charge of lowering the temperature, perhaps she hadn’t--

“Oh, you’re here.” Paul’s voice broke through Hugh’s concentration, but as he looked up at Paul (blinking owlishly at him and holding a cup of coffee), he couldn’t help but feel a fuzzy glow. “I mean--well, do you….” Paul stuttered over his words before he took a small breath. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Hugh smiled at the stammering. _Cute._ “I’m okay, but thanks.”

When Paul nodded and slid back into his seat, Hugh checked the time; it’d been 45 minutes since they’d started. He quickly immersed himself into his report again--he messaged his partner about the temperatures, and she confessed that she hadn’t chilled the solution as much as he’d asked her to--though Paul got up 45 minutes later once again. He made his way almost robotically to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, and returned. Hugh couldn’t help but notice, especially after he did it exactly 45 minutes later again.

After the third time, Hugh had a headache with how many numbers were swirling around in his head. Before Paul could, Hugh made his way to the kitchen, prepared to make a cup of coffee for him.

As Hugh was tapping at the synthesizer, the word _decaf_ sprung in front of his eyes. He pressed his lips together, hesitating, before he pressed the button. Knowing Paul, he hadn’t slept the night before anyway; he needed a break, and if he got tired enough, he’d take one. Probably.

Hugh felt a strange mixture of self-satisfaction and guilt as he stepped up to Paul (who was just getting ready to stand up, if the way he was rubbing his eyes was any indication).

“Let me guess: coffee break?” Hugh asked before Paul could stand from his chair.

Paul jumped a little-- _oops_ \--as he looked at Hugh. “What?”

Hugh held up the pot of coffee. “You stand up every 45 minutes on the dot to make more coffee.”

“Oh,” Paul said, blinking. “Yes, thank you,” he said, holding up his mug with a furrowed brow.

Hugh poured some coffee into Paul’s mug, trying not to be _too_ amused with how startled Paul had been. Once Paul’s mug was full, Hugh made his way back to the kitchen. “Good luck with your report,” he made sure to throw over his shoulder.

Hugh was ready to work on his report after that, though he made sure to take a break every 45 minutes to give Paul his serving of decaf coffee. After the third serving, Hugh finished his report (by concluding that the solution had behaved as normal, and they’d have to re-test the hypothesis due to mistakes made in the experimentation phase, ugh).

By then, it was nearing 1300--just around lunchtime. Hugh almost asked Paul for permission to make something, but he didn’t want to disrupt Paul (and, besides, Paul would have insisted there was no need). Their refrigerator’s content was dismal, though; they only had a block of cheddar cheese and about half a gallon of milk. Hugh decided to make macaroni and cheese, even though he’d have to synthesize the pasta.

As the meal cooked, he decided to use the microwave to pop some popcorn. Once Paul was taking a break, they’d actually need something to _do_ , so...why not a movie? Hugh found a plush blanket in the hall closet, and draped it appealingly over the couch. Once the popcorn was done, he poured that into a large bowl and set it on the coffee table. Perfect.

Hugh was pulling the cooked mac and cheese out of the oven when he heard Paul behind him. “Hugh, what are you doing?”

“Making something for lunch,” Hugh said nonchalantly as he set the dish on the counter. “I’m sure you would’ve forgotten on your own.”

Paul moved further into the kitchen, looking over the dish critically. “Is that...mac and cheese?”

“Yes!” Hugh said with a grin. “I think it’d be good to take a little break, especially for lunch.” He noticed Paul’s trajectory for the synthesizer, and added, “And, maybe you should try to hold off on the coffee for a little bit.”

“I’m tired,” Paul complained in a grumble. “I deserve coffee.”

Hugh stepped forward to block Paul’s path to the synthesizer, putting a hand over his mug. “How about something else?” he asked, mind scrambling for a way to keep Paul away from coffee.

“Like what?” Paul asked, one eyebrow raising in suspicion.

“I’ve been told I make a mean hot chocolate,” Hugh said instantly. Really, nobody had told him that--but he knew it was true.

Paul snorted. “Hot chocolate?” he repeated, and his tone said he expected it to be a joke. Hugh continued staring at him earnestly, and he sighed. “Fine, alright. Make it a coffee hot chocolate.”

Hugh couldn’t stop his smile as he gently took Paul’s mug. “That’s called a mocha, which I won’t do,” he said, “but I promise you’ll love it anyway. Take a seat.”

Paul sighed as he sat at the table. Hugh turned away, typing into the synthesizer as Paul said, “I don’t understand--,” he yawned, “--why I’m so tired. Maybe I need to up my coffee consumption.”

 _Well, moment of truth._ Hugh turned back to face Paul, finished with the order. “Your last three or so cups have been decaf.”

Paul frowned and blinked. “What?”

“The amount of caffeine you’ve had is dangerous,” Hugh justified. The synthesizer dinged, and Hugh turned around to pull out two mugs of hot chocolate (with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, naturally). “Don’t get me started on sugar.” He didn’t miss the irony of the words combined with the drink in his hands, but he knew he’d had to embellish the hot chocolate a little to make up for the lack of coffee.

“I can’t believe you gave me decaf,” Paul scoffed as Hugh set the mugs on the table. “What’s the point?”

“There’s enough sugar in every mug you drink to keep a child up for days,” Hugh said as he dished up the mac and cheese, setting the bowls on the table as well.

Paul’s only response was a dry look. Hugh grinned in return as he sat down and grabbed his fork, getting ready for a bite of mac--though he waited for Paul’s first sip of the hot chocolate.

When Paul pulled the mug away from his mouth, he had a fluffy cloud of whipped cream on his upper lip and comically raised eyebrows. “Cinnamon?” he asked, unaware of his predicament.

“Mhmm,” Hugh said as he nodded, biting down on his lips to keep from laughing.

Paul frowned, probably picking up on Hugh’s laughter. “What?”

Hugh giggled as he gestured vaguely up towards his mouth. “You have a….”

“A what?” Paul asked, scowling.

“Here,” Hugh said, “let me just….” He grabbed a napkin and leaned forward, out of his seat, to wipe away the creamy moustache from Paul’s upper lip. Once it was gone, part of Hugh was tempted to stay there, to press his palm against Paul’s cheek--but he pulled away, sitting down in his seat again. “There.”

“...Thanks,” Paul said, quickly looking down at his bowl as a stark blush came across his face.

Hugh smiled at the blush as he picked up his fork, using it to point at Paul’s bowl. “You can’t get out of eating lunch this time,” he said as he scooped up some of his own mac.

“I don’t actively try to ‘get out of lunch,’ thank you very much,” Paul said indignantly, even as he picked up his own fork.

“No,” Hugh said after he swallowed, “you just keep forgetting to eat.”

“Yes,” Paul said with a little nod. “It’s valid reasoning. I have a lot of work I’m doing, and that takes precedence.”

“Your wellbeing is important too,” Hugh quickly said with a frown. How many times would Paul need to hear it before he realized?

“Not in comparison to the scope of my research,” Paul said as he waved it off. He took a sip of hot chocolate, and made sure to clean his own cream-’stache.

Hugh continued frowning at Paul. Paul sighed when he met Hugh’s eyes. “I’ve finished all of the reports I needed to do,” he said mildly. “Now I can only wait for Straal to finish his section.” He took a careful sip of his hot chocolate. “Perhaps we could...do something instead of working,” he ventured.

 _Success._ “Let’s watch a movie,” Hugh said with a victorious grin.

“A movie?” Paul asked, lifting a single eyebrow. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“It’ll be fun!” Hugh said, forking some mac into his mouth. “We can sit on the couch wrapped up in warm blankets, drink water, and eat healthy snacks like sliced carrots.”

Paul snorted. “Wow, I’m sold.”

Hugh snickered, but he tried to pull off a pleading expression. “Pleaaaase? It’ll be fun.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Paul sighed. “We’ll watch a movie.”

“Great!” Hugh said, a smile instantly lighting up his face. “Finish your mac and we can get started--I’ve already got everything set up.”

“Set up?” Paul echoed, his brow furrowed, as he took a bite of pasta. “How did you know where everything was?”

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the same layout as my dorm,” he said, taking his own bite. “With the added study, of course--do all engineering tracks get that?”

Paul shook his head. “Straal and I had to pull a few strings,” he said, “but once he decided to use the area as a pseudo-lab space rather than a hot tub room, it was quite simple.”

“A hot tub room?” Hugh asked, a smirk coming over his face. “Seriously?”

“The man has many eccentricities,” Paul simply said, a grimace overtaking his face. He ate more of his mac.

Hugh huffed a laugh. “You’re telling me,” he said. “As soon as Ger opened the door today, Straal was all over him--no _hello_ or anything.”

Paul blinked, a frown overtaking his face. “...Our roommates are together,” he said, his frown deepening.

Hugh shrugged a shoulder. “Right now, yes,” he said. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “...Do you think they planned this?”

Paul snorted, setting his fork down and taking a sip of hot chocolate. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Straal thrives off of meddling in my personal affairs.”

“Considering it gave us this date, I won’t be too mad about their scheming,” Hugh said, smiling softly at Paul before he polished off his mac and cheese. He glanced at Paul’s bowl, taking note of the remaining few forkfuls. “Are you done?” he asked, a disapproving frown already beginning to curve his lips.

“The thought of Straal has taken away my appetite entirely,” Paul said, pushing his bowl away a little.

Hugh sighed. “My bad,” he said apologetically. He couldn’t blame Paul; if he thought about what Ger was doing with--oh, yeah, there went his appetite. He stood up and gathered their mostly-empty bowls. “Go ahead and get on the couch.”

Hugh set the bowls in the sink as Paul stood up and walked to the couch. When Hugh turned back around, Paul was looking at the setup with a furrowed brow. “How long have you been waiting around?” he asked. “Where did this blanket come from?”

Hugh snickered, picking his mug up off the table as he made his own way to the couch. “I finished my report an hour or so ago, but I didn’t want to bother you.” He set his mug on the end table, moving the blanket aside, as he sat on the couch and said, “The blanket came from your closet.”

Paul still hovered by the other end of the couch, not sitting, as he asked, “What would we do _after_ the movie?”

Hugh shrugged. “Watch another one?” he suggested. “We can do anything.”

Paul nodded slightly before he moved the blanket as well, curling one leg underneath himself as he sat on the couch, a few inches of space between him and Hugh.

Hugh wasn’t surprised at the margin; he turned on the television and swapped to the streaming service--thank goodness for Starflix--as he asked, “What sorts of movies do you like?”

“I haven’t watched a movie in years.”

Hugh couldn’t keep from looking at Paul in shock. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve had more important things to do these last few years, like get my Ph.D., thank you,” Paul said mildly, a defensive frown tugging at his lips.

“Grad students are allowed to have fun, Paul,” Hugh said, looking back at the screen as he navigated to the _suggested movies_ section. “You must’ve seen something recently.”

A few dry-looking documentaries came up as suggestions, followed by a _watch again_ list. Hugh blinked as he scrolled through pages of mushroom documentaries. He glanced at Paul, trying to keep an eyebrow from raising. He should’ve expected this.

“Look, I--”

“These are definitely movies,” Hugh said with a playful grin, “which means you’ve seen a movie in the last three months at least once.” He selected the first film ( _Fungus Stories: How Dirt Impacts Mushrooms_ ). “It says this one has been played 27 times.”

Paul huffed. “Straal is on this account too, it’s not just me,” he said. “Give me that remote.” He leaned forward, fingers grasping for the remote.

Hugh laughed as he pulled it out of reach, trying to ignore Paul’s warmth. “I can dig the mushroom movies,” he said, navigating to the search bar. “Get it? Dig? Because--”

Paul let out a regal sigh, falling back into his seat. “You’re awful at jokes.”

Hugh snickered. “Anyways, there’s this new movie that came out recently that’s all about breaking the laws of science to travel through space-time and save the world from cliché evil aliens,” he said as he typed in the title of the movie. “I vote we watch that.”

“There’s going to be so many things wrong with it,” Paul said, apprehension in his voice.

Hugh nodded, a grin creeping across his face. “That’ll be the best part.”

“I suppose,” Paul replied after a long sip of cocoa. “I’ll throw popcorn at the screen every time something is wrong.”

“We’ll run out of popcorn half an hour in,” Hugh said, laughter at the edge of his voice as he selected the movie, letting it load in.

“Computer, lights to two percent,” Paul said as he lunged forward to grab the bowl, pulling it into his lap. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make in the name of science.”

Hugh laughed, draping the blanket over their legs as the movie started.

It took all of five minutes for the movie to fuck up. “That’s not how pressurization works,” Hugh groaned. “You can’t just take off your helmet. He’s dead, Paul; that man is dead. Five minutes into the movie.”

15 minutes later, Paul sighed, “They just used rocks as fuel. Just plain rocks.” He threw a piece of popcorn at the screen.

In the middle of the _dramatic reveal_ , Hugh sighed. “Here comes the love interest--who should be dead, too, by the way.” He tossed a piece of popcorn at the television. “No one survives that long without oxygen.”

“They’ve already launched someone through space without a suit on because they ‘figured out how to create a sound-based atmosphere,’” Paul said with a roll of his eyes. “What makes you think they couldn’t survive without oxygen?”

The final scene, unsurprisingly, was the worst of the whole movie. It was entirely too action-based, and focused on the biggest explosions possible.

As Hugh reached for the popcorn bowl, he complained, “You can’t just survive a stab wound after taking the embedded object out. You’ll bleed to death.”

“Things don’t just explode like that in space--there’s no oxygen, you morons,” Paul critiqued at the same time.

Their fingers brushed against one another in the popcorn bowl, and Hugh jumped a little. Not as much as Paul, though, who pulled his hand out of the bowl like it’d been bitten by a snake.

Hugh frowned apologetically at Paul. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Paul shook his head, looking back at the screen. “It’s no big deal.”

They had to sit through 20 more minutes of the movie after that. Hugh made sure Paul wasn’t going in for the popcorn before he did; he didn’t want to scare Paul again. But they’d already held hands plenty, hadn’t they? Why had Paul been so startled? Hugh decided not to speculate, too many bad theories crowding his head.

Once the credits started to roll, Paul stretched his legs out in front of him. “I remember why I never watch movies,” he said. “They’re abysmal.”

“That was at least a little fun, you have to admit,” Hugh said, shifting in his seat. He felt like he’d grown roots to the couch.

“I _do_ enjoy insulting people,” Paul assented, pulling his legs back up and drawing the blanket up to his chest.

Hugh snorted as he stood. “That’s one way to think positively,” he said, lifting his arms above his head as he stretched himself out. “Do you want another mug of hot cocoa?” he asked, dropping his arms. “Or, well--should we watch another movie, or do something else?”

Paul yawned loudly, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. “I want coffee.”

“Well, that’s out of the question,” Hugh said. “I’d ask how much you’ve had in the last few days, but I don’t think I want to know.” He started to make his way to the kitchenette. “Hot chocolate?”

“Fine,” Paul drawled, “hot chocolate. And yes, let’s just watch another movie. I don’t feel like moving anymore.”

“Can do,” Hugh said, already tapping at the synthesizer. He decided to forgo the whipped cream and chocolate shavings that time around. As he handed the mug to Paul, he asked, “What do you want to watch next?”

Paul shrugged as he took a sip of the cocoa. “Just randomize it,” he said as Hugh sat on the couch again. “Something will show up.”

“Okay,” Hugh said with a shrug, sipping from his own mug.

When the title of the movie flashed across the screen, Hugh forced himself not to stiffen. It was a romance movie that’d come out a few years ago. He glanced at Paul to gauge his reaction, but when Paul didn’t complain, he decided to sit back and relax. Maybe it would be a nudge in the right direction.

Their complaints about the film were much less spirited than the last. About a quarter of the way through, though, Hugh suddenly realized Paul had stolen the entire blanket.

“Are you cold?” Hugh asked, glancing at Paul. His nose was buried in the blanket, leaving his eyes to peek out. _Cute._

“No,” Paul immediately said. “What gave you that impression?”

Hugh nodded towards the blanket. “You stole the whole blanket.”

“It’s a very nice blanket,” Paul justified. “I wanted to...get a closer look at it.”

“Get a closer look at it?” Hugh echoed, lifting an eyebrow as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Paul nodded. “Yes.”

“Well,” Hugh said, a playful grin on his face, “if you end up feeling cold, I’ve been told I am _very_ hot,” he winked at Paul, “and I could probably help.”

Paul quickly looked back at the movie, ducking more of his face under the blanket. Hugh tried not to laugh as he looked at the movie as well; Paul would come around. Probably.

Honestly, the movie wasn’t half bad. Cliché to the point of cringing, sure, and predictable beyond measure, but...Hugh was a sucker for romances. He didn’t even notice Paul scooting towards him until their sides pressed together, another 30 minutes into the movie.

“I’ve finished inspecting the blanket,” Paul muttered, offering Hugh a corner, “so I felt like I should give it back.”

Hugh gave Paul a grin as he took the corner. “Thanks,” he said, situating the blanket until it was covering them both equally.

For the rest of the movie, Hugh was hyper-aware of Paul pressed against his side. He tried to focus on the movie, but it was hard with Paul’s warmth seeping into him. When Paul leaned his head against Hugh’s shoulder, Hugh nearly combusted. He forced himself to sit completely still, though, mind racing back to when they’d been sitting like that in the hovertrain on Alpha Centauri.

Unfortunately, Paul was pinning Hugh’s arm tightly against his side. Hugh tried to stick it out for Paul’s sake, especially when Paul yawned a little and shifted to get more comfortable, but the pinpricks in Hugh’s arm were growing too strong.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, Hugh lifted his arm, watching Paul carefully as he curled his arm around Paul’s shoulders. With this new vantage, he felt Paul stiffen up. Their gazes met for a moment before Paul looked back at the movie, his head off of Hugh’s shoulder.

 _Ah, shit._ Hugh regretted the motion, though he didn’t move, letting Paul take the first step. When Paul rested his head against Hugh’s shoulder again, Hugh felt himself relax and focus on the film again.

At the end of the film--during the heartwrenching confession--Paul scoffed. “This whole thing is ridiculous,” he grumbled. “No one simply finds their true love in some random cafe and lives happily ever after.”

Hugh tried to scramble for another response--he really did--but he couldn’t think of anything else before he quietly said, “I met you in a cafe.”

Hugh regretted the words as soon as he felt Paul tense up under his hand. When he pulled away from Hugh, Hugh grimaced and said, “Paul, I’m sorry, I--”

“What are you hoping to get out of this?” Paul asked quickly, staring at Hugh with a frown.

Hugh paused, the words catching him off-guard. “Hoping to get out of this?” he repeated, hoping that Paul would clarify.

Paul nodded. “Why are you here with me?” he demanded. “What do you stand to gain?”

“I...enjoy spending time with you,” Hugh answered, at a loss. What was Paul looking for? Why did he think there was some ulterior--

“But why? For what purpose?”

Hugh felt his frown deepen. “To get to know you better?” he tried. “I don’t need a _reason_ to spend time with you, do I?”

Paul didn’t respond, the furrow between his brows growing more pronounced. Maybe if Hugh had something to go off of, he’d know what Paul wanted. “What’s your reason, then?” he asked.

Paul blinked, silent, for a moment, before he answered. “You’re able to tolerate my honesty, and have a rudimentary grasp of the science behind my research. That’s enough.”

That stung, though Hugh couldn’t decipher why for a moment. He was just...a receptacle for Paul’s information? He didn’t believe that was _it_ ; he refused to. “Is that really all relationships are to you?” he asked. “A way to gain something from someone else?”

“That’s all relationships _are_ ,” Paul said as he shook his head. “True love doesn’t exist, Hugh.”

“We’re not talking about love anymore,” Hugh said as he paused the movie. He turned himself on the couch so he could stare seriously at Paul. Paul’s gaze, however, looked away from Hugh, and his finger started to tap against the blanket. Hugh reached out to take Paul’s hand--there was no reason he had to be nervous. Hugh gently rubbed his thumb against the back of Paul’s hand.

When Paul looked back at him, Hugh said softly, “Look, Paul. I don’t get anything of out of this. I care more about you than I probably should, which makes me concerned when you do things like live off of coffee--but I’m not getting anything out of that. I sincerely like _you_ ,” he punctuated that with a gentle squeeze of his hand, “not whatever you may provide for me.”

Paul was silent for a beat, his brows still furrowed, before he asked, “Why?”

Hugh frowned, still rubbing his thumb on Paul’s hand. He could compliment Paul until they were both blue in the face, but he knew Paul was too stubborn to really accept any of that--at the moment, anyway. He’d have to get Paul to think about it logically. “Why do you keep coming back to the cafe to talk to me every morning?” Hugh asked. “If you only wanted to talk about your research, you could’ve found any cadet down in the biology labs.”

The furrow between Paul’s brows deepened, and Hugh was worried it’d become permanent if it got any more pronounced. “Well, it’s...different.”

“Different how?” Hugh asked.

“You’re a better listener,” Paul said quickly.

“Paul, I don’t even understand mycology,” Hugh said patiently. “You know that. There’s plenty of other cadets who would understand what you’re talking about better.”

“Well, yes, but it’s also….” Paul trailed off, his eyes growing a little distant as he lost himself in thought.

When a few moments had passed, and he didn’t seem to be coming back down to Earth, Hugh prompted, “Also…?”

Paul blinked, focusing on Hugh again. “Better?”

“Better?” Hugh echoed. Despite the situation, he felt a grin prick his lips. “Paul Stamets, walking thesaurus with a Ph.D., and all you can say is ‘better’?”

Paul scowled, though Hugh could see the lightness in his eyes. “I’d like to see you do bett--” Hugh felt his grin widen. “It’s a perfectly acceptable word choice.”

“Sweetheart,” Hugh said, laughter at the edge of his voice, “you’re the smartest man I’ve met, but you’re awful at stuff like this.”

Paul’s nose wrinkled as he glanced away for a moment. “I’m not so sweet,” he grumbled.

“You’re _very_ sweet,” Hugh insisted.

“Not like you,” Paul said, his gaze returning to Hugh’s.

Hugh felt his grin widen, even as warmth flooded to his cheeks. “You think I’m sweet?”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Tooth-achingly so,” he said. “You text me every morning asking me if I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“You usually don’t reply to those,” Hugh said, his smile still bright. He always assumed that Paul just didn’t see them.

“I didn’t see how texting ‘no’ would’ve helped the situation,” Paul said with a small shrug.

“Paul!” Hugh said, his smile instantly disappearing.

“Please don’t remind me that breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Paul said. “I eat it every other day now, isn’t that enough?”

“You mean when you’re with me, in the cafe?” Hugh asked in a deadpan. He shook his head. “We’re getting off-track.”

Paul’s free hand started to tap against the blanket, and Hugh grabbed it gently with his own free hand, rubbing circles into the back of that hand, as well.

“I’ve spent less and less time running every morning, just so I can walk into the cafe to see you for even a minute longer,” Hugh said. “I love seeing the way you smile when you talk about your research, or the knit in your eyebrows when you complain about your professors. Just being around you makes my day better, and that’s why I always come back. I love--” _You_ left Hugh’s lips only on a ghost of a whisper. “Spending time with you,” he finished, “because it’s with _you_.”

Paul stared at Hugh, his eyes wide. Hugh didn’t say anything, waiting for Paul to speak. “That’s hardly fair,” Paul finally muttered, looking down at their hands. “How can you expect me to reply after you say something like that?”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hugh instantly said, “not if you don’t want to. I can see it all on your face.” He really could--there was the smallest wrinkle of a smile at the corner of Paul’s mouth, and a tiny crinkle of joy around his eyes, and his fingers had tightened around Hugh’s fractionally.

Paul looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow daringly. “I’ve been told I’m expressionless, so I don’t see how you can tell.”

“Nope, clear as crystal,” Hugh said, shaking his head.

“Actually, the opacity of crystals is somewhat debatable, and--”

“You’re avoiding the subject, hun,” Hugh said, giving Paul an encouraging grin.

Paul’s mouth turned down in a small grimace. “What subject?”

“I’m trying to get you to realize that _this_ ,” he squeezed his hands a little, “doesn’t have to have anything come out of it to be good. Love isn’t a business transaction.”

“None of the relationships I’ve been in or around have been anything but,” Paul scoffed.

Hugh forced the smile to stay on his face, though the words hit him close to home. He didn’t want to believe that _every_ relationship Paul had been exposed to was one in which each party gained something--but based on how Paul reacted whenever Hugh showed any modicum of affection, he didn’t have trouble believing it. “I guess I’ll have to teach you, then,” Hugh finally said.

Paul was silent, staring searchingly at Hugh. “You don’t have to do this,” he quietly murmured.

“No, I don’t,” Hugh said. “But I want to.”

A small smile came over Paul’s face, and Hugh felt his heart swell. He continued watching Paul closely, unsure of how to continue. Some part of him shouted at him to lean forward, but with how Paul had reacted to Hugh just wrapping his arm around his shoulders? It wouldn’t have been the--

Hugh’s thoughts stopped in their tracks once Paul leaned forward, pressing his lips against Hugh’s. Hugh was stock still, his thoughts falling over themselves to try and provide an explanation for what was happening. _It’s definitely a dream._

It took Hugh a few moments to throw off the thoughts, letting his eyes slide shut as he leaned into the kiss. Paul’s lips were chapped (the man seriously needed to invest in some chapstick), but they were soft and pliant, and Hugh found himself not wanting to part.

The kiss probably only lasted about three seconds, but it rocked Hugh to his core like it lasted hours. Still, Paul pulled away too soon; Hugh leaned forward, trying to maintain the connection, before he remembered himself and pulled back as well, eyes opening to land on Paul’s.

“I apologize,” Paul immediately said, a dark blush stark on his cheeks even in the low light. “I--I wasn’t thinking. I should have asked first, that wasn’t--”

“That,” Hugh interrupted, a lazy smile crossing his face, “was perfect.” He leaned forward, pressing his own kiss to the corner of Paul’s mouth before he fully leaned back, still smiling brightly at Paul. He couldn’t have cleared the grin off his face if he’d tried. “I’m just a little...confused.”

Paul’s brow furrowed, and Hugh wanted to reach out to smooth it out. “About what? Kisses are...pretty self-explanatory, aren’t they?”

Hugh huffed a laugh. “Not about that,” he said. “Well, kind of. I just...I thought you weren’t into affectionate stuff like that. Whenever we’re at the cafe or on campus, you always shrug everything off.”

“Oh,” Paul said. “I don’t like other people seeing me be...unprofessional. They don’t need to know my personal life.”

Hugh blinked, then let out a small laugh. “I guess I should’ve just asked in the first place, then. I was worried my hands felt weird.”

Paul blinked, a smile creasing the corner of his lips. “They don’t,” he said. “I...apologize if I was ever abrupt or rude about it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said, resisting the urge to let out another laugh. “With how strong I came on, I’m surprised you put up with me until now.”

Paul furrowed his brow again, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Hugh, I’ve never had to _put up_ with you,” he said. “Every time I see you, my day brightens. Your smile is the only thing holding me over, some days.”

Hugh blinked, staring at Paul with wide eyes. What could he say to that? His mind was devouring every word, and he felt a blush on his face. When Paul’s frown deepened a fraction, though, Hugh leaped to respond, smiling his widest grin at Paul and leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so glad I met you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against Paul’s to continue smiling at him.

“Me too,” Paul said, mirroring Hugh’s smile with a small one of his own. He glanced over at the television, his ocean eyes aglow in the soft light. “Should we turn the movie back on?”

Hugh shook his head a little, if only because he didn’t want to back away from Paul yet. “It’s almost over anyway,” he murmured. “We can just put a new one on. I wasn’t that invested, were you?”

“Not at all,” Paul agreed. “Where’s the remote?” he asked, eyes searching past Hugh, even as he didn’t move his head away.

Hugh nuzzled his nose against Paul’s before he finally leaned back to grab the remote, returning to the menu of films. “Should we randomize it again?” he asked, glancing at Paul.

Paul nodded, glancing down at Hugh’s chest. “Might as well.”

Hugh navigated easily to the randomize feature, letting the movie load in. “You know, if you’re still cold, we could always cuddle,” he said, smiling at Paul.

“I _do_ still have the blanket,” Paul began.

Hugh didn’t give him a chance to finish; he shoved the blanket onto the floor, lifting a brow towards Paul. “What blanket?” he asked. “I don’t see a blanket. Are you alright, Paul?”

Paul blinked between the discarded blanket and Hugh before his gaze settled on Hugh. “Did you really just--”

“I didn’t do anything,” Hugh said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you just don’t want to cuddle, then just say--”

“You’re an idiot,” Paul grumbled, even as he moved closer to Hugh.

“But I’m _your_ idiot,” Hugh said, wrapping his arms around Paul to pull him to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Paul’s head, unable to help himself, as he scooted down the couch until they were lying down.

The movie started to play, then; soft piano music accompanied wide shots of forestry and--mushrooms. _Oh, no._

“Oh, this is a good one,” Paul said, a smile in his voice. “You’re in for a treat, Hugh.”

Hugh huffed a laugh, his breath brushing some strands of Paul’s hair. “I believe it,” he said, “especially since I’m here with you.”

Paul didn’t respond, but Hugh felt him snuggle a little more deeply into his chest.

Hugh usually didn’t have any trouble focusing on documentaries, but as the film wore on, he felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He tried to hold out as best he could--and he received a second wind when he caught Paul quoting the film under his breath at one point, contorting his face to match the onscreen scientist’s--but he felt too good.

It felt _right_ to have Paul lying on him, shirt gently fisted in one hand as he was enraptured in a film, and near the middle of the film, Hugh slipped into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Paul's point of view can be found [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13653840/chapters/31359756)


End file.
